Nara woke up at 5:43.
Her alarm still had nearly twenty minutes before it went off. She turned it off, then sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her head to feel a little lighter.
Today was Monday.
The sentence had entered her mind before she had a chance to open her phone notes.
Outside, the boarding-house courtyard was still dark. The light near the gate glowed faintly, surrounded by tiny insects moving without direction. Someone coughed in the next room, followed by the sound of a faucet turning on.
Nara switched on the room light.
The blue shirt she had washed two days ago hung behind the door. The collar was still faded, but it was dry. Her black pants were folded on the chair. She took both and checked the pockets to make sure no money or paper had been left inside.
There was one five-hundred-rupiah coin.
Nara put it on the table.
Beside the coin were her wallet, ID card, and a small note with the address of the copy shop.
Arrive at 7:15. Bring ID. Bring water. Don’t forget to eat.
She read the last line longer than the others.
From the kitchen, ma’am Sari called, “Nara, breakfast.”
Nara opened the door. “I can eat later, ma’am.”
“If you can, why did I already make it?”
On the table were rice, a boiled egg, and stir-fried long beans. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Nara could afford to buy that morning without cutting into her transportation money.
“I’ll pay you back later,” she said.
Ma’am Sari was pouring tea into a glass. “Are you starting work or starting an argument?”
Nara sat down.
“I’ll try working,” she said.
“Try eating first.”
Nara picked up her spoon. The boiled egg had been cut in half. The yolk was still a little soft in the middle.
Ma’am Sari sat across from her.
“Did you bring money?”
“Yes.”
“Enough to get home?”
“Enough.”
“What if it isn’t?”
Nara looked at her plate.
Ma’am Sari didn’t wait for an answer. “Call me.”
Nara gave a small nod.
She finished her rice before 6:20. After washing the dishes, she returned to her room and put the water bottle in her bag. She checked the contents twice: wallet, ID card, phone, charger, handkerchief, and pen.
Before leaving, Nara looked at the note on the table.
Not one thing there made the new job feel certain. The shirt could get stained with ink. The machine could break down. Mr. Hendra could change his mind. She could arrive late or make a mistake on her first day.
But 7:15 was still written there.
She locked the door to her rented room.
The road to the copy shop was busier than she had expected. Schoolchildren walked in groups, carrying bags that looked too big for their bodies. A porridge vendor had just opened the lid of his pot. In front of the repair shop, the boy who had watered the plants before was still carrying an empty mineral-water bottle.
This time, a little of the water made it into the soil.
Nara arrived at 7:09.
The Sinar Ja Copy Shop sign was still visible from the end of the alley. The metal door hadn’t been opened yet. Mr. Hendra hadn’t arrived.
Nara stood in front of the shop, checking the time.
7:10.
She could wait. She could also go home and say the place hadn’t opened yet.
7:12.
A motorcycle stopped in front of the shop. Mr. Hendra got off, carrying a key and a plastic bag with two packets of rice.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning, sir.”
“You’re early.”
“You said fifteen minutes early.”
Mr. Hendra looked at his watch. “I said that?”
Nara nodded.
“Then I’d better start being careful what I say.”
He unlocked the padlock. The metal door rose with a rusty screech. Dust from the top fell onto the floor.
“Come in. Don’t stand outside like you’re here to collect a debt.”
Nara went inside.
The place was smaller than she remembered. Maybe because before, she had only come as someone looking for a job. Now every object looked like something she had to learn: two copy machines, one printer, a paper rack, a cashier’s table, a large stapler, and a cash box without a lock.
Mr. Hendra put the packets of rice on the table.
“One’s for you.”
“I already ate breakfast.”
“Good. This is lunch.”
“It’s still morning.”
“If you wait until noon, you’ll forget.”
Nara didn’t know whether all the adults around her had secretly agreed to make sure she ate at the right times.
She set the packet of rice beside her bag.
Mr. Hendra showed her how to turn on the main machine. The button was on the side, beneath a small blinking light.
“Don’t use it until the light stops blinking,” he said.
“What happens if I do?”
“The machine gets angry.”
Nara turned to him.
Mr. Hendra gave a short laugh. “Not really. But the results will come out bad.”
He opened the machine’s cover and showed her where the paper and ink went, along with the parts that had to be cleaned every morning. Nara took a cleaning cloth and followed his movements.
“It doesn’t have to be too clean,” Mr. Hendra said. “This is a copy shop, not an operating room.”
“What if dust gets inside?”
“Then clean it again.”
“What if it still doesn’t work?”
“Call me.”
Nara nodded.
At five to eight, the first customer arrived with three sheets of documents. He was a man in a button-down shirt who looked rushed.
“Five copies, double-sided,” he said.
Mr. Hendra took the documents. “A4 size?”
“Yes. Can you do it quickly?”
“I can if the machine isn’t asked to run.”
The man didn’t laugh. Mr. Hendra didn’t look disappointed either.
Nara stood beside the table and watched. The documents were arranged, the size selected, and the number of copies entered. When the first copy came out, Mr. Hendra checked it before continuing.
“Why not do them all at once?” Nara asked.
“If the first one’s wrong, do you want fifty wrong copies?”
Nara looked at the copy. The writing at the bottom was slightly cut off.
Mr. Hendra adjusted the paper’s position.
“The machine doesn’t know what you want,” he said. “You have to tell it exactly.”
The man received his copies ten minutes later. After paying, he left without saying anything.
Mr. Hendra put the money in the cash box.
“Don’t take it personally when customers don’t say thank you,” he said.
“I don’t.”
“Good. If you take every person’s lack of thanks to heart, you’ll be full before noon.”
Nara stored the sentence somewhere without knowing where.
By ten, the shop had started getting busy. There were students printing papers, a mother making copies of school forms, and a small child who came with a drawing to be laminated.
Nara learned to manage the line. She wrote customers’ names on small pieces of paper, separated documents by paper type, and asked again whenever she wasn’t completely sure.
“One-sided or double-sided?”
“Color or black-and-white?”
“Can I cut this now, or later?”
Some people answered patiently. Others sighed.
Every time someone sighed, Nara’s shoulders tensed.
Mr. Hendra didn’t reprimand her. He only took over when the machine began making strange noises, then handed it back once everything was calm.
At 11:20, a woman handed over documents with the pages out of order.
“Twenty-five copies, bound,” she said.
Nara arranged the sheets on the table. She counted them one by one, then checked the last page.
“One’s missing,” she said.
The woman frowned. “That’s impossible.”
Nara handed her the arranged documents. “Page twelve goes straight to page fourteen.”
The woman checked. Her expression changed slightly.
“Oh. Page thirteen hasn’t been printed.”
“It can be printed now.”
Mr. Hendra glanced at Nara from behind the machine. He said nothing.
Nara printed the missing page, slipped it into the stack, then checked everything again before pressing the copy button.
The job was finished almost at one.
After the woman left, Mr. Hendra said, “You’re careful.”
Nara thought he was warning her about something.
“Sometimes too slow,” Mr. Hendra continued.
Nara lowered her head. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t say that was bad.”
“Oh.”
“Once you’ve memorized everything, you’ll be faster. Don’t rush to be fast now.”
Mr. Hendra opened his packet of rice. He only had an egg and sambal. Nara sat on the plastic chair near the back door and opened the packet of rice he had given her that morning.
The rice was no longer warm. The egg was still edible.
Mr. Hendra looked at the water bottle in Nara’s bag.
“You brought your own water?”
“Yes.”
“Good. The water jug in back is for customers.”
Nara nodded, then drank from her bottle.
They ate without saying much. Outside, she could hear a vegetable vendor passing by and the sound of a drill from the repair shop.
After a few bites, Mr. Hendra asked, “Where did you work before?”
Nara told him the name of her old store.
“How long?”
“Almost two years.”
“Why did you leave?”
“They cut staff.”
Mr. Hendra nodded. He didn’t ask whether Nara had been fired or quit.
“The work here isn’t always heavy. But when it gets busy, you’ll be on your feet the whole time.”
“I can do that.”
“Don’t say you can before you know.”
Nara held her spoon.
Mr. Hendra pointed at his legs. “I used to say I could too. After three days, my knees swelled up.”
“Then what?”
“I kept working. But now I sit when there aren’t any customers.”
Nara looked at the chair near the table. It was the only one.
Mr. Hendra nudged it slightly toward her. “Use it when there’s no one around.”
“I’m fine standing.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
Nara sat after Mr. Hendra returned to the machine.
At two, the first mistake happened.
Nara put the paper in the wrong way. The result came out crooked, with the writing cut off on one side. The customer in front of her sighed harder than the others had.
“That can’t be used.”
“Sorry. I’ll print it again.”
“Don’t take too long.”
Nara put in a new sheet. Her hands trembled slightly.
Mr. Hendra stood beside her but didn’t take over.
“Take a breath,” he said quietly.
Nara breathed in.
“Line it up with the mark from before.”
Nara did so.
The machine hummed. White light moved beneath the glass. The paper came out straight.
“There,” she said.
The customer took it, gave it a quick look, then nodded.
There was no thank-you.
Nara returned the remaining paper to the rack.
Mr. Hendra said, “One mistake doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”
Nara looked at the machine.
“Do you say that to every new employee?”
“You’re the first one.”
She didn’t know whether he was joking. But this time, Nara smiled a little.
Toward evening, soreness began creeping up from the soles of her feet. She had been standing longer than she’d planned. Every so often, she shifted her weight from her right foot to her left, hoping no one would notice.
Mr. Hendra noticed.
“Wear more comfortable shoes tomorrow.”
“My shoes are comfortable.”
“If they were comfortable, you wouldn’t be standing like you’re waiting for a bus.”
Nara looked down at her shoes. They really had worn thin around the heels.
At 5:20, the last customer left. Mr. Hendra turned off the machines and counted the money in the cash box.
“For your first day, that’s enough,” he said.
Nara didn’t know whether he meant her work was enough or the workday was enough.
“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Mr. Hendra asked.
Nara held the strap of her bag.
“If you still want me.”
“I’m asking if you want to.”
Nara looked at the shop as it began to darken. The machines seemed larger after the front light was turned off.
“I want to try again.”
Mr. Hendra nodded. “Come at the same time.”
“7:15.”
“Don’t come earlier. Then I’ll feel guilty.”
Nara picked up the water bottle, now half empty.
Mr. Hendra took several bills from a small box beneath the table.
“This is your transportation money for today.”
“I don’t need it.”
“It’s not a gift.”
“I know.”
“Then take it.”
Nara didn’t immediately reach out.
Mr. Hendra added, “Your monthly pay is still at the beginning of the month. This is just so you don’t have to spend money getting to work.”
Nara accepted the money.
“If it isn’t enough tomorrow, tell me.”
“I can manage.”
“I know.”
The words sounded different coming from Mr. Hendra. Not like doubt. More like he really believed her.
Outside the shop, the sky was gray. It hadn’t started raining, but the air felt heavy. Nara walked behind the minimart before heading home.
The striped cat was waiting beneath the bench.
It raised its head when it saw Nara, then stood. One of its ears still had a thin red wound.
Nara took the cat food from her bag.
“I’m late,” she said.
The cat came closer.
“I worked today.”
She poured the food into the lid of the container. The cat started eating before Nara had finished setting it down.
“The machines are loud. People are always in a hurry. I made one mistake.”
The cat didn’t stop eating.
“I’m coming back tomorrow.”
For a few seconds, Nara wasn’t sure whether she was talking to the cat or to herself.
Her phone buzzed.
Raka: First day?
Nara stared at the message. Her fingers typed:
Still alive.
She almost sent it, then changed the sentence.
Nara: Done.
Raka: How was it?
Nara looked into the small shop behind her, at the transportation money in her wallet, and at the soles of her feet, which felt hot.
Nara: I made one mistake.
Raka: Only one?
Nara: One that I remember.
Raka: Then that’s pretty good.
Nara: Mr. Hendra said to come back tomorrow.
Raka’s reply didn’t come right away.
A few moments later, her phone screen lit up.
Raka: Do you want to come back?
Nara looked at the striped cat, which had finished its food.
Nara: I want to try.
Raka: That’s a good answer.
Nara: Don’t say good.
Raka: Okay. It’s a sufficient answer.
Nara put her phone in her pocket. Rain began to fall, at first only a few large drops on the concrete bench.
The striped cat moved beneath a piece of cardboard.
Nara picked up the plastic bag of food and stood. She wanted to wait for the rain to stop, but the boarding house was only a few minutes away.
She walked home, covering her head with her bag.
In the boarding-house courtyard, ma’am Sari was taking down the laundry.
“You’re home,” she said.
“I’m home.”
“How was it?”
Nara stopped near the stairs. Her shoes were wet. Her blue shirt clung slightly to her shoulders.
“A lot of paper,” she said.
Ma’am Sari waited.
“The machines are loud,” Nara continued.
Ma’am Sari kept waiting.
“I’m going back tomorrow.”
The woman nodded. “All right. Eat first.”
There was still rice and clear vegetable soup in the kitchen. Nara sat down without saying that she wasn’t very hungry. Ma’am Sari didn’t ask whether she’d gotten paid that day or whether Mr. Hendra liked her.
She only brought Nara a bowl.
After eating, Nara washed the dishes, showered, then washed the shirt that had been splashed by the rain. The soles of her feet hurt when she stood over the bucket.
In her room, she counted the transportation money from Mr. Hendra. It was a small amount, but enough for tomorrow’s and the day after’s trips.
She put it in a different section of her wallet from her food money.
Then she opened her phone notes.
Buy cat food tomorrow. Go to the shop tomorrow. Wake up tomorrow. Reply to Raka tomorrow. Look for work today. Bring a photocopy of my ID tomorrow.
Nara crossed out the last two lines, which were no longer necessary.
Look for work today. Bring a photocopy of my ID tomorrow.
She wrote beneath them:
Come back tomorrow.
The sentence didn’t make her feel certain. It didn’t make her feel brave either.
But the sentence had a time.
7:15.
Nara set her phone beside the bed. A new message from Raka came in.
Raka: Have you eaten?
Nara replied:
Yes.
Raka: Seriously?
Nara: Rice and vegetables.
Raka: More complete than an egg.
Nara: Don’t compare them.
Raka: I’m just keeping track of your progress.
Nara stared at the conversation. She typed something, deleted it, then finally wrote:
My feet hurt.
Raka replied after a few seconds.
Raka: Wear shoes that don’t torture you tomorrow.
Nara: I don’t have any.
Raka: We’ll find some cheap insoles.
Nara: Later.
Raka: Okay.
He didn’t add a question. He didn’t turn “later” into a promise.
Nara turned off the screen and lay down.
The room went dark when she turned off the light. Outside, she could hear the rain growing heavier, water running through the gutter, and someone closing the gate.
Her feet still hurt.
So did her back.
Tomorrow she would have to stand again, listen to the noisy machines, deal with customers in a hurry, and try not to put the paper in wrong.
7:15.
Nara closed her eyes.
Today hadn’t saved her.
But it had given her something smaller and more trustworthy: a place to come back to.
On the table, her phone lit up once.
Raka: Good night, Nar.
Nara didn’t open her eyes when she replied.
Good night.
Then, after thinking for a moment, she added:
I’m coming back tomorrow.