One night working overtime

It has been a month since she started working again. Or, more precisely, since she returned to an office job. She had worked for the same company a year ago, before she went to New Zealand, trying to escape from whatever was troubling her in life. But now, after a year of wandering from one foreign town to another, she finally admits that she needs a stable life, even though it once made her feel breathless. She can still recall those days when she needed to look into the mirror and shout to herself to carry on, when she had to cry for a while before opening the door and taking the subway to the office. But those horrible feelings no longer exist in her heart. Instead, the anxiety of having no income feels much stronger. After all, settled suffering is way better than an unknown future. Though a year ago, she wouldn't have agreed with it. But people change. Sometimes it's because of specific things that happened in their lives, and sometimes it's just because of the passage of time. Not to her surprise, most of her co-workers remain the same in appearance and behavior as when she left. They still complain about having too much work and too little time for life, yet continue to make the same decision every day—simply go to work. And she found out that most people aren’t very interested in her adventure in New Zealand. People are curious, of course, but only ask two or three questions during their first meeting. Then the conversation shifts back to everyone complaining about working overtime again and again. It feels like time stood still while she was in another country, and only started again when she came back. Once, she used to think that those people who complain about their job every day would quit very soon, just like those who complain about their partner every day would break up very soon. But neither of these are true. People complain, but remain the same. She used to be the exception, but maybe not anymore. She would look down on herself if she were younger, or hadn't gone through all those things that happened last year. But now she is happy—not the kind of exciting happy, though—she is satisfied with this imperfect life and thinking in a more realistic way. Thanks to the overtime work situation in Shenzhen, her daily schedule doesn't have much room for variety. Every day, she gets up at 7:30 and gets herself ready to go out in 10 minutes. By 8, she has already finished her breakfast and is on the subway to the office. It takes her an entire hour on the subway, and she likes to guess who will get off soon so she can have a seat. Sometimes she's lucky, sometimes not. But reading won't stop no matter there are seats or not. She has finished Family Furnishings, a really thick book written by Alice Munro. Many of her reading pals don't like Munro, and she can see why, but she likes her skill in telling a story in a way that's like a spider catching bugs—carefully building the web, and the prey won't notice anything until they hit their death. The work will be finished at 8:40 pm, and then there's another hour on the subway to go home. She is always too tired to read or write anything, so she fills this hour with painting. Painting is a hobby she picked up recently. She has always liked painting since she was a child, but soon realized she had no talent for it. Now she is old enough to know that talent isn't something that matters in most situations. Boring might be the word younger her would use to describe the life she is having now. While her younger self once saw travel or adventure as brave and hard things to do, she now knows that those 'new beginnings' are the easiest things in the world. It's all about spending money or time to keep oneself in a state of 'beginning,' so people around you can easily forgive any mistakes you make. Meanwhile, staying in the same place and working the same job is hard; earning is hard. Now, she is weary of always being the 'youngest' one. She wants to build a real life and push herself to take life seriously.