Payroll flagged me last week. Not in trouble, a note from HR about "unpaid overtime patterns," five months of me badging in before eight and out after nine, and would I like to actually claim the hours. I didn't reply to the email. I like that it exists more than I like the money.
Tonight it's just me and Priya from the floor below, who says she's finishing a deck but has had the same three slides open for forty minutes. We end up at the coffee machine at the same time, both pretending the other one isn't also just avoiding a commute home to nobody.
She says, not really joking, that I should tell my boyfriend I exist sometime. I laugh the right amount. Then she says, quieter, you know you don't actually have to be here, right, and it lands different than the joke did.
I could tell her. That home right now is a leftover container in the fridge and a lamp on a timer, and this floor at least has other people's coats still on their chairs. Instead I say the deck's due Thursday and I want a head start, which is true and is not the reason.
She nods like she believes me. Maybe she doesn't need to. Maybe she's got her own three slides.
I badge out at 9:40. HR will flag it again next week. I already know I'm not going to answer that email either.