又返到寫字樓。打開螢幕，五十八封電郵。最頂個討論串，嚟到第二十三個回覆，仍未斷尾。
Back at the desk. Fifty-eight emails on the screen. The top thread has reached its twenty-third reply, and shows no sign of ending.
嘆一口氣，再打開封辭職信草稿睇多次，我暗暗慶幸自己文筆無退步過；行去沖茶，諗諗陣間開會份簡報寫乜好。係應該如實相告，「俾足面」、「盡晒力」、「救唔返」；還是保存各部門同仁面子，「正能量」、「盡緊力」、「幫緊你」？
I sigh, open the draft of my resignation letter once more, and take quiet comfort in the fact that my prose has not deteriorated. Then I walk over to make a cup of tea, turning over what to put in the briefing for the meeting ahead. Should I tell it straight: we showed them every courtesy, we gave it our all, it cannot be saved; or preserve everyone's dignity across departments: positive momentum, sustained effort, working on it?
結果，我又一次有意識咁選擇後者。
In the end, once again, I knowingly choose the latter.
望住茶葉浮浮沉沉，忽然想起卡繆的《薛西弗斯神話》。
Watching the tea leaves drift up and settle, I think of Camus and The Myth of Sisyphus.
薛西弗斯得罪神祇受罰，每日推大石上山。嚿石一到頂，又碌返落山，永無止盡。但卡繆偏偏說：「我們必須想像薛西弗斯是快樂的。」聽落荒謬，但又不能排除呢個可能：日復一日，重複做住同一件事，本身就可能帶來某種快樂。
Sisyphus, having offended the gods, was condemned to push a great stone up a hill every day. The stone reaches the top, rolls back down, and so on without end. Yet Camus insists: one must imagine Sisyphus happy. It sounds absurd. And yet one cannot quite rule out the possibility that doing the same thing, day after day, might in itself yield some quiet form of happiness.
在下自覺都在推石頭，任務清楚，表現不俗，只係我並不感到快樂。這非投訴，公司並不刻薄，同事並非無情。事實陳述而已，好似水滾有煙，煙散就算。
I, too, am pushing a stone. The task is clear, the work is well done, only I am not happy. This is not a complaint. The company is not unkind, my colleagues not unfeeling. It is simply an observation: as natural as water boiling, steam rising, steam gone. That is all.
做得好，不代表有意義。有意義，不代表開心。開心，亦未必代表清醒。何必硬要將幾件事縫在一起。
Doing well does not mean meaning. Meaning does not mean happiness. And happiness, in the end, may not mean clarity. Why insist on stitching these things together?
個人做到滑晒牙，心似已灰之木，身如不繫之舟。一條冇繩嘅船，任意漂流，自在與否無人知，總之未沉囉。
One wears down to a smooth edge. A heart like ash, a body like a boat with no rope to shore. A boat without rope drifts where it will; whether it is at peace, no one can say. It has not sunk, at least.
電郵來，會議開。茶冷掉，餘香在。
Emails arrive. Meetings begin. The tea cools. Its fragrance lingers.
望出窗外，雷丁五月，花草茂盛，天可以更藍。
I look out of the window. May in Reading. Grass and flowers in full growth. The sky could still be bluer.