Por trás das Aeromoças

At exactly six in the evening, as usual, I left the café carrying my laptop bag, under the disdainful gaze of the waiter.

For the past two months, like clockwork, I’ve been coming here every day to write my novel—arriving at nine in the morning and leaving at six in the evening, come rain or shine.

Two months ago, I was laid off, unfortunately becoming one of the countless casualties in the massive wave of layoffs sweeping through major companies.

After receiving my severance package, it felt as if I had plummeted straight from heaven into hell.

Anxiety, confusion, panic…

Like a beast lurking in the darkness, gnawing at me relentlessly.

I worked in live-streaming operations—an industry driven not by passion but by ruthless competition. It was already bleak; this year layoffs came in waves, and competing for jobs was harder than attracting viewers.

In these two months, I applied for over a dozen positions and attended countless interviews, yet I never received a suitable offer.

“Sir, would you like to buy some flowers?”

Emerging from the café, I was engrossed in my phone, scrolling through job listings when a young girl selling flowers suddenly appeared before me, interrupting my thoughts.

I stared at her face in surprise, then noticed the bundles of roses she was holding, and it finally dawned on me—

Oh, today is the Qixi Festival.

So I bought a large bouquet of roses, planning to surprise Kuang Li.

Lately, the pressure on both of us had been immense, and we often quarreled over trivial matters