When I popped the two red pills, I thought I will pass out fast. Two hours later, I am still wide awake and begin writing this. Waves of thoughts are surfacing and resurfacing, negating the influence of the drowsy formula. My headache seems to have lightened, but I am not sure if it is due to the effects of the pills. My heart is still thumping heavily on, keeping me unusually alert at 1am.

This morning as I was eating my breakfast and checking my emails, I saw a meeting invitation for a one-to-one catch-up session with my boss. As I was already five minutes late for it, I gobbled down my hot cross bun, but I could not manage to take a sip of the piping hot chai latte.

Once I was in his office, he closed the door. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. It’s a closed door event.

After a brief song on justifications and considerations, I smelled a change happening to my career path. I recognised the familiar whiff of restructuring; the repetitive stench that happened every so often in my company. I told myself that changes are always good and I had been anticipating one to come my way. Yet when I was in that conversation, I had to fight the temptation to defend an unfavourable judgement. I held back with a forced grin. While one stanza of the news was not a sweet tune to my ears, the subsequent counter melody was soothing to hear.

He made it clear that he has decided on the changes that he wanted to implement. In his decisions, I found parts that I want but unclear of the exact implications.

Did I fail in my role? Was his judgement unfair? Does it matter now?

Did I win on my enthusiasm? Is that his cushion to the blow? Should he even care?

The waltz ended. The drama has just begun.

I went back to my seat. The chai latte has turned cold. I craved for a dialogue with someone, to pour out my jittering thoughts. But what can I reveal and who shall I tell? So I prayed.