Friday moved slower than the rest of the week. Not in a bad way—just in the way that comes from people knowing the weekend is close. The office felt lighter, the conversations shorter, and the overall pace a little less strict. Liam got to his desk with a cup of coffee he had bought from a cart outside the building. The guy who ran the cart had already learned his order: plain coffee, nothing added.

Caleb showed up a few minutes later carrying a paper bag that smelled like breakfast sandwiches. “Morning,” he said. “I got an extra one if you want it. They messed up my order and gave me two.”

Liam accepted it. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Fridays are for carbs.”

They didn’t jump straight into work. Caleb talked about a show he had been binge-watching, something about a group of friends who all lived in the same building. Liam listened while eating the sandwich, and the conversation stayed easy. It wasn’t about deadlines or Monday’s meeting. Just background noise that made the morning smoother.

They eventually checked a few small tasks, but it didn’t take long. Most of the work was already done. Miranda had told them yesterday there wouldn’t be anything new until next week, so there wasn’t much to push.

Around ten, Liam took a break and walked to the small balcony at the end of the hallway. The fifth floor had an outdoor patio barely big enough for two chairs, but it overlooked a busy street. He stood against the rail, sipping his coffee and watching people carry weekend groceries, walk dogs, talk on phones, or hurry toward the bus stop. It reminded him that cities had their own rhythm—fast, slow, everything in between.

When he returned to his desk, Caleb was scrolling through restaurant menus.

“Lunch?” Caleb asked.

“It’s ten-thirty.”

“I’m planning ahead.”

Liam laughed. “Sure.”

They decided on a small diner a block away. At noon, they walked out of the building and crossed the street. The diner wasn’t fancy—just a few booths, a counter, and a chalkboard menu—but it smelled like real food. Liam ordered a turkey melt; Caleb got pancakes even though it wasn’t breakfast anymore. The server didn’t care.

They talked about nothing important: traffic, movies, the weather turning warmer. It was the kind of lunch that made the day feel normal.

When they got back to the office, most people were already winding down for the weekend. A few were finishing emails. Someone was handing out cookies from a box. Caleb grabbed one without asking; Liam passed.

By three, Caleb packed his things. “I’m heading out. If you need anything Monday morning, text me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Liam said.

“You say that now. Wait until the call starts.”

Liam shook his head. “Go enjoy your weekend.”

“I plan to.”

Caleb left, and the floor grew quieter. Liam did a quick check of his inbox—nothing urgent—and shut down his computer. He grabbed his bag and took the elevator down to the lobby.

Outside, the weather was mild enough that he walked the first few blocks instead of heading straight for the bus stop. He passed a row of restaurants, a small bookstore, a laundromat with the door propped open, and a florist arranging flowers in buckets on the sidewalk. He slowed down to look—not because he needed anything, but because the colors were bright against the pavement.

He reached the bus stop eventually, rode home, and walked into his building just as someone from the third floor was carrying a bike up the stairs. Liam stepped aside, letting them pass, then continued up.

On the second-floor landing, he found Zoey sitting on the steps with a grocery bag beside her. She wasn’t upset or rushed—just sitting there like she had decided she needed a break before climbing the next flight. She looked up when she heard him.

“Hey,” she said. “Long day?”

“Not really,” Liam said. “Just ready to be done. You?”

She nudged the grocery bag with her foot. “I bought too much stuff. It felt manageable until I hit the stairs.”

“That happens,” he said.

Zoey pulled one strap of the bag toward her. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“Slow day.”

She nodded. “My studio closed early. Boss said everyone needed a break before next week.”

Liam hesitated. “Busy week coming?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Monday we have this introduction call with a new team. Kind of a kickoff thing. I’ve spent half the week pretending I’m more organized than I am.”

He kept his face neutral. “You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” She adjusted the bag again. “You doing anything this weekend?”

“Nothing wild,” Liam said. “Maybe laundry. Maybe find an actual grocery store instead of living off whatever I can grab on the way home.”

“There’s a good one two blocks over,” she said. “Turn left at the bakery. They have decent prices.”

“I’ll check it out.”

Zoey stood, lifting the grocery bag in a way that looked like she had done it many times. “You need anything upstairs?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“See you.”

She headed down the hall while Liam waited a moment before climbing the stairs to the third floor. Inside his apartment, he set his bag down and opened the window to let in fresh air. The room still smelled like cardboard, but less than before.

He tossed his keys onto the small table and sorted through his mail—flyers, a bill, something addressed to a previous tenant. He set them aside. After that, he changed into a T-shirt and walked back into the kitchen. He wasn’t hungry yet, so he poured a glass of water and stood by the counter, listening to the faint sounds from the hallway.

A door closed somewhere. Someone walked past, footsteps soft on the carpet. The building had its own soundtrack.

He sat at the table and opened his notebook, not for work but just out of habit. He wrote a quick weekend list: laundry, grocery run, maybe unpack one more box, maybe not. Nothing important.

Later, he made a simple dinner and ate while standing at the counter. He washed the pan again, wiped down the sink, and then moved to the living room area. He turned on a small lamp and scrolled through a few shows online but didn’t commit to watching anything.

Around eight, he heard a knock on a door somewhere outside—three quick taps followed by someone greeting a friend. Weekend arrivals, probably. People came and went in this building all the time.

At nine, he stepped out to throw away some trash. When he opened his door, he saw Zoey walking back from the laundry room with a small basket. She stopped when she saw him.

“Hey,” she said. “You doing laundry tomorrow too?”

“Probably,” Liam said. “Trying to get ahead of the pile.”

“Good luck with that,” she said. “The machines on the second floor like to stop mid-cycle. If they do, just kick the bottom corner.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said.

They stood there for a moment, neither in a rush.

Zoey shifted the basket. “Monday’s going to be a long day.”

“For you too?”

She nodded. “Yeah. New faces, new expectations. I always end up overthinking it.”

“You’ll handle it,” Liam said simply.

Zoey gave a small smile. “You always sound more sure than I feel.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound strange.

“Well,” she said, stepping back, “I should fold these before they wrinkle.”

“See you.”

“Night, Liam.”

“Night.”

She disappeared down the hall, and Liam headed to the trash room, then back inside his apartment. The space felt quiet but not empty. He sat for a while with the lights low, letting the day settle.

Later, when he got ready for bed, he found himself thinking not about Monday’s call, not about names on lists, but about Zoey sitting on the stairs with a grocery bag, talking about nothing important. Just the small pieces of a day that made the city feel less like a place he had moved to and more like a place he was starting to live in.

He turned off the light and let the room go dark.