He roams the corridors and the classrooms, dutifully cleaning the aftermath of dozens of students. The solitude of the rooms left behind by time always had a calming effect on him, like watching an ever-changing artwork. It gave him some time to relax: a little temporary retreat from the world.

He didn't need much: just a broom and a pair of rubber gloves. Everything else didn't matter: the school mandated all the other things. Like the t-shirt and jeans, emblazoned with the logo of the school's official labor company.

With all things considered, the shirt and the jeans were pretty good. They weren't itchy, unlike the other labor companies he went to. And, at the same time, you could get loads of those clothes on surplus from the store. They were cheaper than other clothes in the market, and they had better quality.

It was his usual work attire, and it served him for the longest time. He's been with the school for a very long time, and he's earned that uniform with hard work and sacrifice.

He didn't know why the thought of the uniform would bother him at this point. Maybe it was a factor of the fatigue. Working two jobs everyday could tire anybody, even the staunchest of workhorses.

This was the last classroom of the day. After that, it's over, and he could spend some time with his family. There might be some leftover hotdog left for him, wrinkly and tired from breakfast. Maybe some egg, if he was lucky.

He opened the door. Grade 10C.

It was standard protocol: arrange the chairs, pick up the assorted pieces of paper, and sweep up the floor. For most people, it seems boring, almost repetitive, but for him, it was something that he lived for. There was a joy in doing the small things to make someone's day feel better, no matter how mundane it may be.

There was also the little game of scoring three-pointers in the trashcan. It was a fun way of taking out the trash, and it also made you think how you were going to throw things.

Of course, there were also things that just made him hate the job. Arranging the chairs was hell on his back and eyes, and the matter of carrying out the trash was a frontal assault on the senses. Honestly, it was pretty hard to make a straight line out of almost asymmetrical chairs. He tries his best, but sometimes, the straight lines just seemed to elude him.

He tossed up the last ball of paper into the trashcan, smiling as he added another point to his streak. He looked one more time at the classroom: at the crooked rows and columns of chairs and tables, the gleaming whiteboard, free of any blemishes and ink, and the floor, cleaned from dust and debris.

Overall, everything seemed in order.

He knew his work, however organized, would never last. By tomorrow's end, the classroom would be back to its usual untidy state. It could be better off or worse off than before, depending on the teacher.

Thank God it wasn't project season. If it were, the trashcan would be heavier and smellier than usual.

He looked at the battered red trashcan at his corner of the room, proudly supporting the weight of his broom despite being filled to the brim with everything.

The trashcan was like a kindred soul to him. Everyday, the trashcan would be so full of problems, and he would be there to take it off his hands and deliver it somewhere else. The trashcan was earnest about it, which was an improvement compared to other people.

He only hated emptying the "problems". Sometimes, they smelled. Other times, they'd spill over. And the worst of all was when there'd be liquid.

What kind of imbecile throws liquid in a solid trashcan?

He was going to begin the arduous task of emptying the trashcan into the bigger trash bag, but something caught his eye.

It was in the corner of one of the tables. On first glance, it looked like some kind of phone, or maybe a black box attached to some wire.

He hesitantly prodded it with the handle of the broom. Nothing happened.

Now sure that the box wouldn't attack him or something, he moved closer, and held it up to the remnants of the sunlight.

Some sort of..."iPod"?

Must be some kind of imported cellphone thing, although it was pretty small for anyone to properly use. Heck, it was probably around the size of his pinky! How someone would be able to use that to call or even text, he didn't know.

Typing must be hell on that thing, he thought.

Looking at the...mini iPhone, he decided to try something.

He pressed the Home button, and, to his delight, there wasn't any passcode to bother with. He was in the home screen now, with a few icons to interact with.

Turning the little gadget off again, he decided to think what he could do with it.

He could pocket it, and keep the little thing to himself. Who knows what kind of music it had? There could be something that he likes, and if there was none, he could just buy a Lightning cable from his neighborhood electronics guy.

He could sell it as well. Something like this could fetch a pretty hefty sum. It could probably make his family's lives better. Maybe, just for one night, they could sleep with the aircon on, to ward off the tropical heat and the mosquitos that thrived off of it. Or maybe even give Maylene the phone he couldn't give her last Christmas.

There were so many things he could do with that little thing.

At long last, he came to a decision.

Wrapping the little gadget in a piece of paper, he detailed its description, where and when he found it, and some basic characteristics the owner would hopefully know. He pocketed it inside his jeans for the moment, and emptied the trashcan's "problems" into a bigger bag.

Smiling, he walked out of the classroom, broom and trash bag on his shoulders, and the little gadget in his pocket.

He whistled a little tune on his way down the stairs; eagerly waiting for the time he could change his company-regulated jeans into some good old-fashioned shorts, and spend some time with his little family at home.

He put everything back where it belonged: the broom on the broom racks, the garbage bag outside, where it would be collected by the garbage truck come morning.

And, finally, the little bundle wrapped in paper in the Lost & Found Office.

Walking home, the janitor continued his merry tune, hoping that he could be reunited with his family after a hard day.

And hopefully, the little bundle to its owner.