The storage room smelled of cardboard and faint ammonia, the fluorescent light overhead flickering just enough to annoy. Mia balanced on a step stool, trying to wrestle a bulky box from the top shelf, her frustration flaring with each failed attempt. Eric, her coworker, walked in, his usual slouch accompanied by the soft shuffle of sneakers on tile.
“Need a hand?” he asked. Without waiting for her prideful refusal, he took the box down in one practiced motion. She mumbled a thanks, brushing her hair from her face, cheeks hot with embarrassment.
“Careful up there,” he said, leaning against a stack of dusty cleaning supplies. “No need to break your neck for inventory.”
His tone was light, almost teasing, but there it was—the concern. Nobody had bothered with that lately, not since her promotion to assistant manager had put her on a lonely pedestal of expectations. She paused, the weight of the box pressing into her arms not nearly as heavy as the realization.
“Yeah,” she said quietly, setting the box down. “Thanks.”
Eric smiled faintly, then left. It wasn’t much, just a passing moment, but the room felt warmer, the smallest ripple breaking the dull surface of her days.
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