It has been a week (well, almost) since I prematurely left work. It never really dawned on me at first but during the weekend, it started sinking in that Monday would be different. Yes, I was in the office last night but it was not for the whole eight hours but for only 10 to 15 minutes.
I still haven't told people I have left. At least not unless they asked.
And since Thursday last week, I had been finishing tasks that were left neglected for the past ten months that I was employed. Today, I threw up the bags to the washer and when mom asked what I was doing, I told her that I am washing the stuff and later on hide it in the closet.
Some things need rest, myself and as weird as it seems, even my things. Of course, at some extent, there was a tinge of pain pinching my heart as well.
But then likewise, goodbyes are necessary.
If there are positive effects that I left work, its saying bye-bye to the "unknown" subordinate that sent my goosebumps rising and Mama would no longer have to be worrying when I travel to work at night.
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