My last Friday

It's noisy here. Rather, the absence of people brings out the humming of the overhead lights, the rush of air coming through vents, the whir of the hard drive. I've packed my personal effects: statue of Ganesh, pair of comfortable shoes, plastic easter egg filled with salt, picture of my husband, spoon, tea cup from China, postcards, magnets, etc.

I'm reading Fernando Pessoa's Book of Disquiet and I just left a part where he has been imagining freedom from work. But he feels unease:

"I felt that I would be sorry. The boss Vasques, the bookkeeper Moreira, the cashier Borges, the good boys, all of them, the happy kid who carries the letters to the post office, the delivery boy, the friendly cat - all of it became part of my life; I wouldn't be able to leave all that without weeping, without understanding that as bad as it may seem to me, it was part of me that remained with all of them, that separating from them was half like death."

Those aren't precisely the thoughts running through my mind, but I feel an affinity with them. This is my last Friday at this assignment after three months. As much as I groan, there is something soothing about having a job to go to, besides the paycheck.