Morning began badly.
Jay realized it before he even checked the time. Something about the light in the room felt wrong. It was too bright, too steady, like the sun had been awake for a while without him.
His eyes snapped open.
For a moment he stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what had pulled him out of sleep.
Then it hit him.
Silence.
No alarm.
Jay turned his head sharply toward the nightstand and grabbed his phone. The screen blinked awake in his hand.
8:47 AM.
He shot upright so fast the bedsheet tangled around his legs.
"You're joking."
He wasn't supposed to wake up at eight forty-seven. Eight fifteen was the plan. Eight twenty if things were already falling apart. But eight forty-seven meant the morning had already sprinted ahead without him.
Work started at nine.
Jay threw the blanket aside and stumbled out of bed, nearly stepping on a pile of laundry that had quietly colonized the floor during the week. The cold tile of the bathroom floor bit into his feet as he rushed inside.
The faucet squeaked when he twisted it open. Water splashed into the sink, and Jay leaned over it, letting the cold shock his face awake.
When he looked up, the mirror returned a version of him that was not encouraging.
His hair pointed in several directions at once. One side of his face carried the deep crease of a pillow that clearly had no intention of fading anytime soon.
"Perfect," he muttered.
He ran wet hands through his hair, which somehow made it worse.
There was no time to fix anything properly.
Jay grabbed the nearest towel and wiped his face before rushing back to the bedroom. His eyes scanned the chaos for something wearable. A shirt hung over the back of a chair like it had been waiting for this moment.
He pulled it on while hopping toward his shoes.
One lace slipped loose when he yanked it tight.
Jay stared at it for half a second, then shoved his foot in anyway.
"Close enough."
He snatched his bag, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out of the apartment.
The hallway smelled faintly of someone cooking breakfast. Eggs, maybe. Or something fried.
Jay didn't slow down long enough to investigate.
He pushed through the stairwell door and began taking the steps two at a time, his untied shoe slapping against the concrete as he descended.
Outside, the city had already settled into its daily rhythm.
Cars rolled through the intersection in steady streams. Vendors arranged their goods along the sidewalks. Someone nearby argued loudly into a phone while a radio played music from an open shop.
Jay barely noticed any of it.
He was already running toward the bus stop.
The bus came into view just as it began pulling away.
"Hey! Wait!"
Jay waved his arms and sprinted the last few meters toward the curb.
The bus continued forward without hesitation.
He chased it anyway.
For half a block he ran alongside traffic, hoping the driver might glance in the mirror and feel generous.
The bus turned the corner and disappeared.
Jay slowed to a stop, bending forward with his hands on his knees while he caught his breath.
"Well," he said between breaths, "that's promising."
A woman waiting at the stop gave him a quick glance before returning to her phone. Her expression suggested she had seen mornings like this before and had decided they were someone else's problem.
Jay straightened up and adjusted his crooked collar.
Walking it was.
And walking quickly.
---
By the time he reached the office building, his lungs were staging a quiet rebellion.
The tall glass doors slid open as he approached, releasing a wave of cool air that felt almost judgmental.
Inside, the lobby gleamed with polished floors and quiet professionalism.
Jay crossed it at a hurried pace and slipped into the elevator just before the doors closed.
The small space was already packed.
Six people stood inside, each dressed neatly and holding the calm posture of people who had arrived on time.
Jay stepped in, aware that his breathing was still heavier than it should be.
No one looked at him directly, but he could feel the subtle awareness of his arrival.
He faced the mirrored doors and tried to fix his collar without drawing attention to himself.
The elevator hummed upward.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Jay avoided looking too closely at his reflection.
Six.
Seven.
The doors opened.
He stepped out quickly and walked toward the open office floor.
Rows of desks filled the room in tidy formation. Monitors glowed softly while quiet conversations drifted between cubicles.
Jay reached his desk and dropped into his chair, trying to appear like someone who had been working for at least twenty minutes.
He logged into his computer.
The system took its time loading.
Jay adjusted his chair and opened a blank window, hoping the illusion might hold.
A shadow fell across the desk.
He turned slowly.
Mister Chen stood behind him.
The manager's expression was calm, almost neutral. He was a quiet man who rarely raised his voice.
Somehow that made things worse.
"Jay," Mister Chen said.
"Morning, sir."
"My office."
Jay nodded once and stood.
The walk across the office floor felt longer than usual.
A few coworkers glanced up briefly before returning their attention to their screens.
The office door closed softly behind them.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of tea.
Mister Chen sat behind his desk and folded his hands.
Jay remained standing.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Finally, Mister Chen looked up.
"Jay," he said again.
"We are letting you go."
The sentence landed with surprising simplicity.
No buildup. No explanation.
Just three quiet words.
Jay felt his shoulders relax slightly.
He had known this was coming.
The quarterly review three weeks ago had already made that clear. Budget cuts. Strange looks across the office. Conversations that stopped when he walked by.
"I see," Jay said.
Mister Chen nodded.
"Your final paycheck will be processed within five business days."
He slid a small form across the desk.
"Please return your ID card before leaving."
Jay nodded again.
"Understood."
The meeting ended there.
No speeches.
No attempts at encouragement.
Just procedure.
Jay walked back through the office floor toward his desk.
No one spoke to him.
He picked up his jacket from the chair and slipped it on. There wasn't much else to take.
At the exit, a small tray sat beside the door.
Jay pulled his ID card from his pocket and dropped it in.
The plastic card made a quiet tapping sound against the tray.
Then he walked outside.
---
Two blocks later, Jay stopped.
He stood on the sidewalk while the city flowed around him.
People hurried past with coffee cups and phones pressed to their ears. Cars rolled by in slow traffic.
No one noticed him standing there.
Jay reached into his jacket pocket.
His hand came back empty.
He frowned and checked again.
Then the other pocket.
Then his back pockets.
Nothing.
"My phone…"
He turned slightly, scanning the sidewalk behind him as if it might appear somewhere nearby.
It didn't.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe he had left it at home.
Maybe it had slipped out during the morning chaos.
Either way, it was gone for now.
Jay reached for his wallet instead.
At least that was still there.
He opened it.
Two crumpled notes stared back at him, along with a few coins.
Twelve hundred naira.
Jay looked at the money for a moment.
"Rent's due in four days," he murmured.
The wallet closed with a soft snap.
---
Eventually he found himself sitting on a metal bench outside a closed pharmacy.
The bench had been warming in the sun all afternoon. The heat soaked through his jacket as he leaned back and stared up at the sky.
It was an ordinary sky.
Blue. Calm. Completely indifferent.
A pigeon landed nearby and began inspecting the ground with professional focus.
It looked at Jay.
Jay looked at it.
"Don't even start," he said.
The pigeon walked away.
Jay didn't blame it.
Time passed quietly.
The sun drifted lower.
Eventually Jay stood and began the slow walk home.
---
His apartment looked exactly the way he had left it.
Quiet. Slightly messy. Unimpressed with his return.
Jay dropped his bag onto the table and kicked off his shoes.
Something lay on the kitchen floor.
He bent down and picked it up.
His phone.
It must have fallen off the counter during the morning rush.
A jagged crack stretched across the screen from corner to corner.
"Of course," Jay sighed.
He plugged the phone into the charger.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then the screen flickered on.
Cracked.
But still working.
Jay unlocked it.
Seventeen missed calls.
Most were from his mother.
A few from his cousin.
One from a number he didn't recognize.
He stared at the list for a long moment.
The phone buzzed again.
Another call from his mother.
Jay watched it ring.
Then he turned the phone face-down on the counter.
He wasn't ready for that conversation.
Instead he walked into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.
He hadn't eaten all day.
The thought barely crossed his mind.
Jay pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he told himself.
Tomorrow would be different.
Sleep arrived before reality could correct him.