Nara woke up before the alarm went off.
5:37 a.m.
She didn't turn off the alarm right away. Her phone screen was still dark, with only the tiny numbers of the clock glowing in the corner.
Outside her room, the sound of rain was already gone. Only water still dripped from the edge of the gutter.
Nara lay there for a few more minutes.
Her feet still felt sore.
It wasn't pain that kept her from walking. Just a faint ache in the soles and heels that appeared whenever she changed position.
She remembered Raka's message from the night before.
Let's find some cheap shoe inserts.
Nara opened the conversation.
His last message was still at the bottom.
I'll come again tomorrow.
There had been no reply after that.
She turned off the screen.
Today, he was coming again.
That sentence should have been enough.
Nara got up, folded the blanket, then took the blue shirt hanging behind the door. The collar was still slightly damp after being washed the night before. She hung it closer to the window.
She checked the time.
There was still time.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Sari was already awake.
“Eggs?” the woman asked.
Nara nodded.
“Sit.”
“I can get it myself.”
“Then get it.”
Nara took a plate.
Mrs. Sari set a boiled egg on it.
“Your feet?”
Nara stopped.
“I can still walk.”
“I didn't ask whether you could walk.”
Nara looked at the egg on the plate.
“They still hurt a little.”
“Wear thick socks.”
“They're hot.”
“Then don't complain.”
Nara almost answered, but Mrs. Sari had already turned back to the stove.
She ate more than she had yesterday.
When she was done, she washed the plate and went back to her room.
Her shirt was dry enough.
Nara put it on, then packed her things into her bag.
Wallet.
ID card.
Phone.
Water bottle.
Pen.
Transportation money.
She stopped when she saw the five-hundred-rupiah coin that had been on the table for two days.
She put it in her wallet.
Day two.
She wrote in her phone's notes.
Buy cat food tomorrow. Go to the store tomorrow. Wake up tomorrow. Reply to Raka's message tomorrow. Come again tomorrow.
Nara stared at the last line.
Yesterday, that line had said today.
She didn't delete it.
She only changed it.
Come again today.
She locked her room.
At 7:11 a.m., Nara arrived in front of Fotokopi Sinar Ja.
The door was still closed.
She checked the time.
7:12.
This time, she didn't stand there anxiously.
She sat on the small bench in front of the store.
Three minutes later, Mr. Hendra arrived.
“You don't have to get here earlier than I do.”
“I got here at 7:11.”
Mr. Hendra opened the door.
“Then I need to fix my clock.”
Nara went inside.
The machines inside were still silent.
The room felt different before the store opened. There was no sound of paper, no customers, no printers running. Only the small fan and the vehicles on the road.
“Try turning on the main machine,” Mr. Hendra said.
Nara pressed the button.
A small light blinked.
She waited.
Mr. Hendra watched her from behind the counter.
“Good.”
Nara turned around.
“What?”
“You didn't keep pressing it.”
“I remembered.”
“Then I explained it well.”
Nara didn't answer.
At ten to eight, the first customer arrived.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The second day felt faster than the first.
Nara already knew where the A4 paper was. She knew the thicker paper was kept on the bottom shelf. She knew the color printer took longer. She knew the copier made a different sound when paper got jammed.
She still asked questions.
Just fewer of them.
“Mr. Hendra, is this double-sided?”
“Two-sided.”
“This one in color?”
“Black and white.”
“How many?”
“Ten.”
Nara nodded.
The work moved from her hands to the machines, then back into the customers' hands.
Nothing was special about it.
That was exactly what made her feel a little calmer.
Around ten, a college student came in carrying a flash drive.
“I want to print something.”
“How many pages?”
“Forty-two.”
Nara took the flash drive.
“Color or black and white?”
“Black and white.”
“Double-sided?”
“No.”
Nara plugged it into the computer.
One folder opened.
Then another.
She found the file and opened the document.
“Forty-two pages?”
“Yeah.”
Nara looked at the screen.
The first page was a cover.
The second page was blank.
She turned to him.
“Do you want this blank one printed too?”
The student looked at the screen.
“Oh. No.”
Nara removed the blank page from the print settings.
“So that makes forty-one.”
“Yeah.”
She pressed the button.
The printer started working.
The pages came out one by one.
Nara checked the first sheet.
Nothing was cut off this time.
She didn't feel proud.
Only relieved.
Sometimes, she thought, not making a mistake was enough.
At 11:15, her phone vibrated.
Raka.
Raka: Your feet?
Nara read the message while standing behind the counter.
Nara: They're still there.
Raka: That's not an answer.
Nara: They hurt.
Raka: Badly?
Nara: No.
Raka: What time are you going home?
Nara: Five.
Raka: I can pick you up.
Nara immediately typed:
Don't.
She stared at the message before sending it.
Then she deleted it.
She typed again.
Later.
She deleted that message too.
In the end, she sent:
I'm going home by myself.
Raka: Okay.
That was all.
Nara slipped her phone into her pocket.
For some reason, that short reply made her feel calmer.
The afternoon was quieter.
Mr. Hendra sat in a chair near the door, reading something on his phone. Nara stood behind the counter, organizing the paper that had just arrived.
“Mr. Hendra.”
“Hm?”
“When the store is this quiet, what am I supposed to do?”
“Organize things.”
Nara looked at the already orderly shelves.
“Done.”
“Clean.”
“Done.”
“Sit.”
Nara looked at the only chair.
Mr. Hendra moved it.
“Sit.”
Nara sat down.
Several minutes passed without a customer.
She watched the street outside.
A schoolchild bought a drink from the store next door. Two motorcyclists stopped in front of the repair shop. A small dog crossed the street, then disappeared between the houses.
“Mr. Hendra.”
“Hm?”
“When did you start this business?”
Mr. Hendra lowered his phone.
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Twelve years.”
Nara did the math in her head.
“You never wanted to quit?”
“Often.”
“Why didn't you?”
Mr. Hendra shrugged.
“I have to open again tomorrow.”
The answer was simple.
Nara looked at the copier in front of her.
I have to open again tomorrow.
Maybe there really were things in life you didn't have to love in order to keep doing them.
A customer came in before she could think any further.
At 4:40, rain began to fall.
This time, it was heavier than yesterday.
People who came into the store lingered longer beneath the awning. The road in front of the store began to grow wet and glossy.
The last customer came in with documents to print.
“Can you finish before five?”
Mr. Hendra checked the time.
“If it's only twenty sheets, yes.”
Nara started working on them.
The printer worked more slowly than usual.
She checked the paper.
One sheet came out.
Two.
Three.
Then the printer stopped.
A red light came on.
Nara looked at the screen.
Paper jam.
She opened the printer cover the way Mr. Hendra had taught her.
“Don't pull it.”
Nara stopped.
Mr. Hendra came over.
“Pull it from underneath.”
Nara followed the direction of his hand.
The paper came out slowly.
It didn't tear.
“Good.”
Nara closed the printer cover again.
“Keep going?”
“Keep going.”
The customer checked the time.
“Is it going to take much longer?”
“Just a little longer,” Nara said.
This time, her voice didn't tremble.
The printer started working again.
The rain grew heavier.
When all the documents were finished, the time was 5:11.
The customer paid and left.
Mr. Hendra turned off the printer.
“Not bad.”
Nara nodded.
She watched the rain from the doorway.
“How am I supposed to get home in rain like this?”
Mr. Hendra took an umbrella from behind the counter.
“Use it.”
“I can wait.”
“If you wait, it could last until tonight.”
“I'll return it tomorrow.”
“Did I say you had to return it today?”
Nara accepted the umbrella.
The rain still hadn't let up when Nara reached the convenience store.
She didn't go straight home.
The striped cat usually waited in the back.
Nara stood under the awning, opened her bag, and took out the cat food.
“Are you here?”
There was no answer.
She waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Rain drummed rapidly against the corrugated metal roof.
Nara began to feel foolish for continuing to stand there.
Maybe the cat was sheltering somewhere else.
Maybe someone had fed it.
Maybe it hadn't come because it didn't know Nara had finished work.
Nara set the food beneath the bench.
She didn't leave.
A few minutes later, a small head appeared from behind a cardboard box.
Nara let out a quiet breath.
“You're late.”
The cat walked closer.
Its fur was wet along its back.
Nara sat on the concrete bench.
She opened the umbrella a little wider so the food wouldn't get splashed.
The cat ate.
Her phone vibrated.
Raka: Are you home yet?
Nara looked at the rain.
Nara: Not yet.
Raka: Where are you?
Nara: The convenience store.
Raka: It's raining?
Nara: Yeah.
A few seconds later.
Raka: Wait.
Nara immediately typed:
You don't have to.
She stared at the words.
This time, she didn't delete them.
Raka: I'm close already.
Nara closed her eyes for a moment.
She didn't want to feel annoyed.
She didn't want to feel happy, either.
A motorcycle stopped in front of the convenience store a few minutes later.
Raka got off, carrying a raincoat.
“You haven't gone home yet?”
Nara pointed at the cat.
“It hasn't finished.”
Raka looked down.
“Oh.”
He stood beside the bench.
“Whose umbrella are you using?”
“Mr. Hendra's.”
“Good.”
Nara looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
After the container was empty, Raka took the cat food from Nara's hand.
“I'll throw it away.”
“I can.”
“I know.”
Raka walked to the trash can.
Nara watched him.
“Raka.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
Raka stopped.
He didn't turn around.
“For what?”
Nara looked at the rain.
“I don't know.”
Raka gave a small nod.
“Okay.”
He came back.
“Shall we go home?”
Nara nodded.
They stood beneath the awning.
Raka put on his raincoat.
“You use the umbrella. I'll walk you to the boarding house.”
“You don't have to.”
“Then I'll walk you to the alley.”
“It's close.”
“I know.”
Nara looked at him.
Raka wasn't smiling.
Finally, Nara opened the umbrella wider.
“Just the alley.”
“Okay.”
They walked side by side.
The rain made the street quieter. Water flowed along the edge of the sidewalk. Store lights reflected in the puddles.
Nara walked slowly so her shoes wouldn't get too wet.
“Do your shoes still hurt?” Raka asked.
“A little.”
“The inserts?”
“Not yet.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Later.”
Raka didn't argue.
They walked a few more yards.
“How was work today?”
“Easier.”
“So you're starting to get used to it.”
“Don't jump to conclusions.”
“Okay.”
Nara held back a smile.
When they reached the end of the alley, Raka stopped.
“This is as far as I go.”
Nara nodded.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“This time, I know.”
Raka smiled faintly.
“Go home.”
Nara walked into the alley.
After a few steps, she looked back.
Raka was still standing there.
He raised one hand slightly.
Nara waved back.
Then she continued on.
Mrs. Sari was closing the kitchen door when Nara came in.
“Wet?”
“A little.”
“Whose umbrella?”
“Mr. Hendra's.”
“Return it tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Mrs. Sari looked at Nara's shoes.
“Take them off. Dry them.”
Nara took them off.
The soles of her feet hurt more after she stopped walking.
She sat on the small step outside her room and slowly rubbed her heels.
Mrs. Sari brought her a small towel.
“Use this.”
Nara accepted it.
“Thanks, ma'am.”
“Don't let it get so bad you can't walk tomorrow.”
“I can.”
Mrs. Sari looked at her.
Nara gave a small smile.
“I still can.”
“Good.”
That night, Nara ate more.
Rice, vegetables, and an egg.
After showering, she washed her socks and hung them near the window to dry. She hung her blue shirt behind the door.
She opened her wallet.
She still had her transportation money.
She counted it.
There would still be enough tomorrow.
She didn't have to think about the night after tomorrow tonight.
Nara opened her phone's notes.
Buy cat food tomorrow. Go to the store tomorrow. Wake up tomorrow. Reply to Raka's message tomorrow. Come again tomorrow.
She deleted the last line.
Come again tomorrow.
She wrote:
Come again.
Then she stopped.
The day was already over.
She didn't need to add anything else.
Her phone vibrated.
Raka: Have you eaten?
Nara replied:
Yes.
Raka: Your feet?
Nara looked at her heels.
They still hurt.
She typed:
A little.
Raka: I'll bring you something tomorrow.
Nara replied immediately:
What?
Raka: It's a secret.
Nara stared at the screen.
She typed:
Don't buy anything expensive.
Raka: I know.
Nara: Seriously.
Raka: Seriously.
Nara turned off the screen.
Outside, the rain began to stop.
Water still dripped from the gutter, but less often. A motorcycle passed in front of the boarding house. Its headlight moved briefly through a gap in the curtains, then disappeared.
Nara lay down.
There would still be work tomorrow.
There was still the cat.
There was still money to count.
There were still messages that might come in.
And for the first time, none of it felt like too much.
It didn't feel easy, either.
It was simply there.
Like a day that hadn't finished being written.
Nara closed her eyes.
On the table, her phone lit up one more time.
Raka: Good night, Nar.
Nara opened her eyes.
She picked up her phone.
Good night.
She thought for a moment.
Then she added:
I'll come again tomorrow.
This time, she didn't delete it.