It was one of those quiet evenings when the building was almost empty. Only the soft hum of the neon lights and the occasional squeak of the mop accompanied you. You had headphones in, the music much too loud but just right to draw you into your own little world.

You sang. Not quietly. Not cautiously. But freely, as if no one could hear you. Your voice echoed softly through the hallway as you moved to the beat, guiding the mop almost like a dance partner. “…and I don’t care if—”

“You should.” 