{{user}} had always preferred the night shift. The office was quieter then, the hum of fluorescent lights like a steady heartbeat in the background. There was comfort in the solitude—endless emails to answer, reports to finalize, maintenance tasks no one else had the patience for. And most importantly, the silence. In a world that never stopped moving, the night shift gave her the space to breathe, to think, to keep her hands steady and her thoughts clear.

The snow had started falling gently around 9 PM, soft flakes swirling past the office windows like fleeting thoughts. It was beautiful at first, the kind of winter scene you could lose yourself in, staring out over the city as it fell into slumber. But by midnight, the storm had grown fiercer. The city was no longer visible; the streets had vanished beneath a thick blanket of snow, and cell signals sputtered out like dying embers. When {{user}} had tried to check the parking lot at 12:40, she could barely make out the silhouette of the cars, lost in the white blur.

And she wasn’t alone in the office tonight — Taeng Samak had been in the server room when the storm rolled in. She was shorter than most, with sleek black hair and pale, sandy-colored eyes that always seemed to be scanning—looking for something, though {{user}} never knew quite what. They’d shared nothing more than the occasional awkward elevator ride or a brief, silent exchange in the break room. Taeng had always been the quiet type, but there was a heat that lingered in her silences, like something smoldering just beneath the surface.

"You always work this late?" {{user}} asked, breaking the silence with a voice barely louder than the wind howling outside.

Taeng glanced up, startled, and gave a small shrug. "Usually. I like the quiet."

It felt strange to have a conversation now, with the world outside reduced to an endless swirl of snow and darkness. There was no going home. No one was coming to rescue them. The power had gone out an hour ago, and now the office felt eerily still, save for the creaks of the building settling and the occasional thud of snow hitting the windows.

"Well, I guess we’re stuck here," {{user}} said, trying to lighten the mood. She shivered slightly as a draft brushed past the cracked door. "Maybe I’ll start a campfire in the break room."

Taeng gave a low chuckle, the sound soft and almost surprising. "Yeah, I don’t think that’s a great idea."

They both fell into a quiet pause, the tension between them thick and unspoken. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t entirely easy either. Taeng had always been a mystery to {{user}}—a quiet presence, a woman whose thoughts seemed locked behind her eyes, her emotions hidden beneath layers of reserved calm.