the old lady who cleans the toilet at night

The silent hush of the night fell upon the corporate building. Outside of office hours, the building became eerily quiet. It reminded you of the white noise after the generator shuts down. Is this what it is like in a computer, after a day's of hard work, to suddenly power down?

No more sharp footsteps resounding off the marble flooring, or people rushing to somewhere. No more security guard sitting at the station, no more business like conversations.

Just your own soft walking- you were trying to walk as silently as possible. (It's a hobby, and the building was too quiet for you to deliberately break that tenuous stillness.)

But there came the sound of running water and a quick scrubbing sound. Noises that seemed to blend into the stillness yet stand out.

It came from the toilet. There was a rational explanation you know, but your mind threatened to run off in directions apart from the rational.

You quickened your pace but looked into the toilet as you passed by. You just got a glimpse but it still tugged at you.

She was someone you saw before. On another lonely night home, a smilier situation. The old lady was short and hunched. Dressed in the cleaner's uniform, she meticulously washed the sinks armed with cloth and detergent. Her cleaning trolly was parked outside.

You wondered if she read the papers, or was well-informed about political conversation, or the woes the people were talking about. What bester working hours, better pay, better job descriptions. You don't deny that all those are important. You'd drove a job with good pay, wonderful working hours, less stress, the works.

But the quiet dignity of the old lady's cleaning in the night when everyone has left... perspective.

Written by my good friend, the author of frozenquietthoughts.blogspot.sg