Taking in the space. There’s someone with their head down, headphones on, clicking away on the keys. There are people sniffling, sneezing and sipping coffee. Someone is eating a healthy salad next to me and I hear someone in the kitchen putting a big bowl on the counter. It feels homey.

I smell the salad dressing and can hear the sound of the knife cutting through the spinach. The ridges of the blade scrape against the plastic bowl. I hear the sound of the napkin wiping her dry hands on this cold winter day. In the distance I hear the hum of the printer in the corner, cooling from its recent work. Ramen noodles are steaming in the bowl in front of me as notebooks slide to the side and make room for the squiggly feast.

A cough from the kitchen and my rumbling tummy signal it’s time for me to eat. But I’m captivated by the moment. I hear the sound of the water bottle lid being twisted open, and the sound of the swallow and resealing of the lid. The gold fork is clanking the bottom of the Ramen noodle bowl and the fork tongs are clinking against gritted teeth.

I hear water rushing from the kitchen faucet as someone kindly cleans up. And muffled voices peek from closed doors nearby as someone in the other room naps on the couch. This is more than a workspace its home.

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