12:00

Cynthia Ng (she/her/hers) is a writer from Hong Kong, where she fell in love with iced lemon tea and having a place in different flavors. Based in the United States, Cynthia is a Master's in Data Science and Analytics candidate at Georgetown University and holds a Bachelor's degree in International Relations from Brown University. You can find Cynthia on Instagram @cynthiang.jpg.

"12:00 PM." Bag packed, lunch reheated, and smoothie in hand, I get up from my desk. The sounds of mouse clicks and stifled sighs from different cubicles accompany my walk across the sterile office. I don’t like staying here during my lunch breaks and jump at every chance to explore outside.

I walk into the elevator, its glaring lights transporting me to another world. Leaning against the heavy door connecting the building to everything outside, the smell of dusty carpeting pushes out into the open air. The California sun hits my forehead and the hot lunchbox in my hands. I close my eyes as I stay in place just for a bit, feeling the sun’s heat wrap itself around my lips. Lips that are smudged with an icy, tangy berry smoothie. 

As I wait for the traffic light to turn into a white pedestrian, I play with my lanyard string on and on, extending it to the point that it touches the floor. Why are the extendable strings of lanyards so long? I giggle at that question. The light turns white. My earbud plays a beat to every step I take, my hand tracing out the melody of a song I know too well. I can’t help but mouth out the lyrics of the chorus, while a smile makes its way in between words. Gleaming. Every iteration of this song, every lunch break I take, is its own journey that will never come again. 

A passer-by catches me in my reverie and looks back, intrigued. Silly you, I thought. I wasn’t smiling at you; but now I am, my gaze hidden behind my sunglasses. What is he thinking? What would we be like if we met somewhere outside these suits? What is he really taking his break from? I start making up a love story with this person, curious about a stranger who’s probably going to be back in his office in an hour or so, someone I’ll likely never see again. 

I keep walking, between the shadows cast by large office buildings and the bare sun. When I finally get to my lunch spot, I sit down on the warm, prickly grass. I sip on the blueberry smoothie more, my fingers wet from the droplets forming along the cup. A breeze ruffles my blouse for a few seconds, nudging me to take in everything around me even more. 

I’m near The Last Bookstore, “the largest independent used & new bookstore in California”. Every place in America finds a way to market itself as The Largest or The First or The Best. But that’s not how I first heard of the bookstore. It’s my friend from another city who recommended it to me. A friend who can’t make it out of any bookstore without his backpack heavier from the three extra books he can’t help but buy. While I never got the chance to visit this bookstore with him, I took two other people to The Last Bookstore - one, a friend of over 15 years, from halfway across the world to this city, and another, someone I don’t speak to anymore who called the bookstore gimmicky, his cynicism finding crevices in loosely bound books and tightly packed shelves. Memories whisper between musty pages and warm skin.

“12:45 pm” - I let go of my lanyard string as it jolts back into its compartment. I slurp my berry smoothie, trying to savor every bit before I go back up. A spot of the berry smoothie marks itself on my blouse - an overly tidy outfit that my family got me years ago because “you can’t go wrong with formal business attire”. Perhaps to their disappointment, I don’t clean the stain. I slurp what’s left of the smoothie, its flavors - sweet and cooling, sour and melting - circling in my mouth and disappearing into the past. 

I think of every time someone has asked me “Where do you see yourself after graduating?” and “What do you want to do?” I don’t know what exactly, but I’m learning more and more to take note of the things that bring me joy, the things I want to keep weaving into my journey. The spot of the blueberry smoothie on my blouse is a fun little mark I can leave, a taste I’ll bring to wherever I’ll be.