Six working days left. There’s a weird feeling when you’re leaving a job, where you know you still have some responsibilities, but your brain is moving ahead and you’re impatient to move on. Part of you feels bad that you’re dropping all the things you’re responsible for on others; the rest simply wants to rip the bandaid off and be done with it.

It’s like waiting for surgery. Now that there’s a set date, the anticipation and the desperation to be done with it and on the other side of recovery becomes more and more intense.

Targe: 1000 words
Written: 660 words, novella: The Mungk