Morning

Anton woke before the alarm. The room was dim, and the sound reached him before he was fully aware of it: a steady tapping on the window. Rain drifted down in thin diagonal lines, collecting on the balcony rail and slipping to the pavement below. It had been like this for days. The city remained wrapped in a grey curtain, and the weather pressed on him with a dull persistence. He disliked mornings like this. The rain settled into his thoughts before he had a chance to establish the day on his own terms.

He moved through the apartment quietly. The air felt cool, and a faint smell of moisture seeped through the window frame. He turned on the kettle and watched droplets slide along the glass in slow, predictable paths. The sound of boiling water blended with the muted hiss outside. Anton ate a simple breakfast, checked overnight messages, and put on his coat.

Outside, the rain greeted him without pause. The walkway leading from the building glistened with scattered puddles. Cars passed with slow splashes, and the sidewalks reflected the pale streetlights. Anton lifted his collar and walked toward the station. The sky hung low, heavy with the same clouds that had settled all week. The air smelled of soaked concrete and damp leaves.

The station was nearly empty. A few early commuters stood spaced along the platform, choosing positions away from the wind. Anton stepped under the shelter and shook the water from his sleeves. When the train arrived, he found an empty seat near a fogged window. The rain followed the train’s movement, blurring the view into shifting grey silhouettes.

He opened his notebook and reviewed yesterday’s entries. Several lines had arrows beside them. A pattern was beginning to take form. At the bottom of the page, he added a short sentence:

The same rain and the same issues, returning without change.

He closed the notebook and rested it on his lap. The train rocked gently as it moved through the suburbs, gathering more passengers who shook water from their coats and bags.

Near the city center, the carriage grew busier. Anton adjusted his expression into the neutral, attentive look of a consultant heading to an engagement. When the train arrived at his station, he stepped out into the familiar weight of the morning rain.

The office building’s lobby carried the faint smell of damp fabric. Anton greeted the security guard and entered the elevator. The tenth floor opened into a quiet hum of desk lamps and early activity. The overnight alert screen near the entrance scrolled through a list of failures that had resolved themselves. One service had failed three times at the same interval.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine worked through its cycle with a low, uneven hum. A damp spoon lay on the counter, and a thin puddle had formed beneath it. Anton filled a glass with water and continued toward his desk.

Jorel was already working, reviewing a stream of logs with steady concentration. The glow from his monitor reflected against the wet windows.

“These errors again,” Jorel said. “They appear at the same time every night.”

Anton stepped closer. “Has anyone asked questions about them?”

“They asked if anything required immediate attention,” Jorel replied. “I told them the system continues running.”

He returned to the logs. Anton recognized the tone. It carried the quiet endurance of someone who had worked through many cycles of unaddressed issues.

Anton reached his own desk and opened his laptop. Messages had already arrived from several teams: requests for clarification, references to upcoming meetings, and brief comments about pending tasks. He responded with steady, neutral phrasing. Years of consulting had taught him how quickly direct statements could create resistance.

By eight thirty, the office filled. Damp coats were draped over chairs, and the air held a faint chill. Conversations rose and faded. People adjusted their voices and posture as certain figures moved through the room.

Mira approached shortly before nine. “Platform stand-up wants you again,” she said.

“Is it urgent?” Anton asked.

“They want help explaining delays.”

He gathered his notebook and followed her to the meeting room. Chairs scraped lightly as people shifted to make space. The smell of rain-soaked clothing lingered throughout the room.

The stand-up followed its usual rhythm: measured status updates, stalled tasks, dependencies without owners. When the team lead gestured toward Anton, he shaped his contribution with careful restraint.

“There are several repeating failure points,” he said. “Addressing those first will make progress easier to demonstrate.”

A few people nodded. The wording allowed them to continue without friction.

After the meeting, a young engineer lingered by the door. “Be cautious with what you recommend,” he said quietly. “Your name comes up when they discuss issues later.”

He stepped away before Anton could answer.

In the hallway, Anton encountered Hale. The director offered a steady, practiced greeting.

“I hear you’re gathering insights,” Hale said. “Let me know if anything concerning appears early.”

“We’re still reviewing details,” Anton replied.

Hale accepted the answer and continued down the corridor. Conversations near the printers shifted only after he was out of sight.

Lunch passed quietly. Rain streaked across the windows in narrow trails. Mira and Jorel sat with another engineer, their voices low. They spoke with the caution of people who chose their listeners carefully.

The afternoon brought several small shifts: tickets reassigned, calendar invites updated, a message from HR requesting a “quick check-in.” Anton noted each event without urgency. The overall pattern was settling into place.

By late afternoon, the office emptied. People collected their coats and umbrellas and moved toward the elevators. Anton reviewed the final notes in his notebook:

Recurring failures. Filtered communication. A structure that reacts cautiously to examination.

He closed the notebook. The rain tapped steadily against the windows, unchanged since dawn.

He prepared to leave. Another morning would follow, carrying the same weather and the same rhythm.

He stepped into the hallway with the quiet certainty of someone who already recognized the direction the engagement would take.