Routine, I find, is a good thing.

However, it seems that you — or at the very least, your presence — demands a break in the routine I've grown so familiar with whenever it comes to cross my path. Today seems no different.

I barely notice the knock at the door at first, absorbed in the assorted files piled upon my desk, until it registers that the knock has a familiar pattern to it; something you'd made a rather irritating habit of.

"Enter," I speak to the empty room, gaze trained on the door as the hinges groan and your all-too-familiar stare meets my own.