The fluorescent lights in the break room hummed softly, casting a harsh glow over the chipped Formica table where Lin had spread out her lunch—a sad-looking sandwich and a can of iced tea. She'd been staring at the spreadsheet on her phone for so long that the numbers had started to blur, but when the door creaked open, she jolted, nearly knocking over her drink.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," said Maya, sliding into the chair across from her, a tupperware container in hand. The lid popped open with a satisfying click, releasing the scent of garlic and basil. "Brought extra lasagna. My abuela made it—said I was 'skin and bones' and needed to share." She pushed the container toward Lin, a fork clattering onto the table. "You look like you could use a break. When's the last time you ate something that wasn't a vending machine granola bar?"
Lin stared at the lasagna—layers of melted cheese, meat sauce glistening under the lights—and felt a sudden lump in her throat. She'd been pulling double shifts all week, chasing a deadline that felt like it was moving further away every time she blinked. "Thanks," she mumbled, poking at the food with the fork. "I, uh… lost track. Maybe yesterday? Or the day before?"
Maya raised an eyebrow, nudging the container closer. "That's not a real answer. Eat. I'll even let you vent about whatever's got you glued to that spreadsheet. Boss breathing down your neck again?"
Lin sighed, stabbing a piece of lasagna. It was warm, rich, the cheese stretching as she lifted the fork. "More like the client's been sending revisions every hour. They want the logo bigger, then smaller, then neon pink, then 'subtle like a whisper.' I'm this close to printing out the design and eating it." She took a bite, and for a second, the stress loosened its grip—just a little. "And now they want it by morning. As if I don't need to sleep or… I dunno, remember what sunlight feels like."
Maya snickered, popping a grape into her mouth. "Clients are like toddlers with a crayon—they don't know what they want, but they'll scream till you give them something to throw. Remember Mr. Henderson? The one who wanted his website to 'feel like a hug but also a rollercoaster'?"
Lin laughed, the sound surprising her. "How could I forget? He made us change the font three times because it 'didn't match his cat's personality.'"
"Exactly! And then he picked the first one we showed him. Classic." Maya leaned back, crossing her arms. "Look, take twenty minutes. Eat the lasagna. I'll even cover your desk if the boss comes by. You'll work better with a full stomach. Promise."
Lin hesitated, then dug in, the warmth of the food seeping into her cold hands. The break room door creaked again, and Carlos poked his head in, his hair as messy as always. "Hey, anyone seen my stapler? I swear, if it's that intern again—" He stopped when he saw the lasagna, grinning. "Oh, lasagna? Abuela's special? Save me a fork, Maya."
"Only if you promise to help Lin with the client revisions," Maya shot back, sliding him a fork. "She's drowning over here."
Carlos winked at Lin, spearing a piece of lasagna. "Deal. I owe you one for the save last week, remember? The printer meltdown? This is my chance to pay you back."
Lin felt a weight lift as Carlos launched into a story about the intern who'd "borrowed" his stapler to hang up concert flyers, and Maya chimed in with a story about the time she'd accidentally sent a meme to the CEO instead of her friend. For a moment, the spreadsheet, the client, the deadline—all of it faded into the background.
When Lin finally checked her phone, the time made her curse under her breath, but as she stood up, she realized her hands weren't shaking anymore. "Thanks, guys. Seriously. This… helped."
Maya waved her off. "Go. We've got your back. And if the client wants neon pink? Tell them it clashes with the cat's personality. Works every time."
Lin grabbed her phone, the lasagna still warm in her stomach, and headed back to her desk. The spreadsheet still looked daunting, but as she typed, she found herself smiling. Maybe deadlines weren't so bad when you had people to share lasagna with.
The fluorescent lights still hummed, but now they felt less harsh. Somewhere down the hall, she heard Carlos laughing, and Maya yelling about "stapler thieves." Lin took a deep breath, hit save, and started typing—this time, with a full stomach and a lighter heart.