Past 3pm, still moving, still sweating. Outside the small office, flat's slowly cooling down, so maybe the rest of the working day just needs to take place elsewhere. Or maybe taking a shower is an idea. Having a drink, under the trees, and quietly sinking into the afternoon. Yet, moving on, feeling watched by these hours and their watchful eyes. Tight schedule, still. Few gaps in between. And a backlog of work to make it to the next week.