Lasts

Today marks the start of a series of “lasts.”
Last e-mails on the work account.
Last time staring at the patterns in the acoustic ceiling tiles.
For Christ’s sake, last goddamn morning exercises!
I am walking around the office in a haze. I watch myself shaking hands, saying goodbyes, tying up loose ends from a third person point of view. Six and one-half years is an awful long time to do the same job in a foreign country.
Over the next few weeks, time will accelerate and I will be in a rush to see old friends, catch a few new sights, and feel the rush of old, familiar feelings one last time before I go (oh, and also to move to Thailand). But it all starts here, on the last day of work. My cynical side equates this to escaping from the Yamato – fight bravely, suckers! – and it is undeniably sad to watch friends and colleagues sail off as I find a different way, but it is also the right thing to do, and it is my way.
Today, I graduate from being Salaryman.
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