There are days I would dream about my work. In those dreams, I always was trying to meet a deadline. It’s just been six months since I stopped working, but it already felt like something unreal, something that belongs to my previous life.

A few days ago, K, a colleague from Chongqing came to visit me. We spent a whole afternoon together, catching up with each other. We talked about something I already knew: like the business was still in slump so there might be another round of layout, and something I didn’t know: after me, another colleague was diagnosed with cancer, and she already had the surgery and now is taking chemo in Beijing. Good luck, dear.

After we parted, K looked into my eyes and said: “I wanted to see you as soon as I heard the news, I even bought the ticket but I didn’t know your condition, and I was afraid that my visiting might become a burden to you. So I changed my mind. I know you, you hate to be intruding and hate to cause any troubles for the others. But just remember, if you want someone to talk, I’m already here.”

I felt a tight knot in my stomach, and this time it had nothing to do with the drugs I was taking.