Ayan didn't hate Monday mornings...
He just didn't get along with them.
After a long afternoon shift at the hospital—where the glow of monitors and the soft cries of patients filled the air—he came back to his room past midnight. Five hours of sleep later, he was already rushing to catch his usual bus for a quick morning briefing with the team, followed by yet another shift at the outpatient department (OPD). This had become a regular routine, as the hospital constantly struggled with staff shortages, and Ayan had been asked to take on extra hours from another ward.
But that wasn't what exhausted him the most.
What wore him down the most... was the feeling of drifting through a life that no one seemed to notice.
His days blurred together in a repetitive cycle—sleep, eat, work, sleep. He hardly saw his friends anymore, let alone had the chance to meet someone special.
Except for that breakfast box.
That, at least, made him feel like someone out there still noticed him quietly.
Ayan opened his door and picked up the breakfast box placed neatly on the shelf outside the next-door room.
"Salmon rice balls and tamagoyaki today…" he murmured. A gentle warmth rose with the steam as he opened the lid. The salmon was tender, melting on his tongue with a faint smoky scent that hinted at careful preparation. The golden slices of tamagoyaki were firm yet soft, perfectly balanced with a hint of savory sweetness. "Simple, but it feels like coming home after a long, sleepless night," he said to no one in particular as he chewed the first bite, standing in the corridor. Morning light spilled over the box like a soft embrace. He looked up at the slightly open window next door, where the cream-colored curtain fluttered gently in the breeze.
A small note was stuck to the lid, as always. A quiet gesture of encouragement that had become a part of his Monday routine. Even if no one was there, Ayan smiled all the same.
He tucked the note into his pocket, placed the empty box back on the shelf in front of their door, just like always,
and made his way down the stairs.
A silent conversation that had begun without words.
While waiting for the bus, he took out a small sketchbook and drew a tiny corner bookstore on the edge of the page. Underneath the drawing, he wrote:
"It would be nice if there were a table by the window… just for the one customer who managed to wake up on a Monday morning."
He didn't know if the other person would ever see it.
But he tore the page out anyway… and planned to slip it into the empty lunchbox the following Monday.