The guy that ate his feelings kept a hidden stash of Fun-Yuns in the bottom right drawer of his desk. The woman who was too peppy for her own good had a picture of herself in high school as a cheerleader to remind herself that at one point her life was not this pathetic. When the picture didn’t serve its purpose, she went into the bathroom and cried away her sorrows in a stall. I walked in once and saw her leopard heels right before I walked out.

I was an observer.

I was fascinated by what you could learn about someone without ever saying a word to them. How the human was so easy to figure out from a distance, because I learned that the closer you got the more complicated that human became. I watched, walked, and gave the envelopes to the low-lifes following the office code of leaving cheesy souvenirs up for a month so that the coworker who gave it to them thought they appreciated it, when they couldn’t care less about it.

But ever so often it hit me. I am a mail giver. How pathetic is that?