Working Alone

It's one hour past the hour I usually leave my office, but I've stayed on, waiting for J. It's kind of nice being here, almost alone in the building. I can do what I want, and no colleagues are watching me.

I have finally begun sorting out my photographs at home. That's what I did last week. I have millions of them, from the day I was born, up until last summer, and now almost all of them are in albums, in chronological order. It's like my life has flashed before my eyes, and without me being in any kind of danger. I've wanted to do it for a long time, and now, when I'm almost done, a sense of relief, mixed up with a sense of nostalgia, has filled me.

And now J. is calling. Time to leave.