Once again, I'm the last one around. It's Sunday evening. People have gone home to prepare for another week. Me? My week has just begun. It never ended to be exact. What was that? Footsteps? A door shuts? Or is it just me? I look around, no one. Perhaps I am getting tired! But deep inside, there is a certain haughtiness that I am truly the last one around. There is a certain bonding with a place that begins to happen when you are the only one present. The silence shouts out to you. Suddenly, footsteps. They're real this time. Several chaps enter. The silence remains, but no longer am I the only one. We are all here. Such hard workers.
The days are getting colder; winter is coming. It is time to go home.
The days are getting colder; winter is coming. It is time to go home.
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