By late afternoon, Edgar’s head was spinning from onboarding. Logins, calendars, HR portals—a scavenger hunt of acronyms and passwords. He had a half-written checklist open and three browser tabs he wasn’t sure he’d opened himself.

He was mid-scroll through a benefits FAQ when a head popped up over the cubicle wall.

“Hey!” The voice belonged to a man in a button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves, lanyard dangling like a lazy necktie. “You’re Edgar, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re heading across the street for happy hour. You coming?”

Edgar glanced at the clock. 5:07. He hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t stay too long. My folks are expecting me. I don’t like leaving them…unattended.”

The man grinned. “We usually only do one or two. Nobody’s going wild on a Monday, promise.”

Edgar gave a half-smile. “Alright. Yeah, I can join for a bit.”

He packed up his notes, grabbed his jacket, and followed the group down the block to a small bar nestled between a dry cleaner and a poke shop. Inside, the lights were low, the booths gently fraying, and the bartenders already knew who drank what.

Someone ordered a round. Someone else launched a debate about office chairs. Within minutes, Edgar was folded into a corner booth, listening to a good-natured argument about whether Gwen’s “no-meeting Fridays” were a blessing or a logistical trap. The table agreed they were both.

The team was looser here—laughing easily, finishing each other’s sentences, referencing inside jokes that spanned years. Edgar mostly listened, smiled when appropriate, nodded when prompted.

Eventually, conversations split into smaller threads. Nicole slid onto the bench beside him, drink in hand.

“So,” she said, elbowing him gently, “how was your first day going, new guy?”

Edgar laughed. “Not bad. Everyone’s been really welcoming.”

“Well, we’re not monsters. Yet.” She sipped her drink. “That lunch note kind of stole the show, by the way.”

He winced, smiling. “Yeah. My mom’s big on first-day traditions. Probably packed me a peanut butter sandwich the day I learned to walk.”

“Must be nice,” she said, half-laughing. “What’s the rest of your story? You grow up around here?”

Edgar nodded. “Yeah, not far. Been in the neighborhood since I was a kid. It wasn’t until I went away for school that I really appreciated how great this area is. Always felt small growing up, but now that I’m older I can see the charm.”

Nicole raised her glass. “Amen to that.”

He went on, “Kind of the same with my parents, honestly. I didn’t realize how much I valued them until I had some time away. Distance gave me perspective, you know?”

“Totally. I remember the first time my mom poured me a glass of wine after dinner—I was like, wait… are my parents actual people?” She laughed brightly. “What’s your relationship with your dad like?”

Edgar’s expression softened. “He’s great. Kind of quiet, but… solid, you know? He’s a big reason I went to college. First in the family, and he was ridiculously proud. The tie I’m wearing? He gave it to me when I got the job offer. Said it made me look ‘respectable.’”

Nicole smiled, a little sideways. “That’s honestly kind of perfect.”

Edgar shrugged modestly. “I don’t know. I guess I got lucky.”

She tilted her head. “It all sounds a little too good to be true.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just… I don’t know. It’s rare. Most people I know have some kind of complicated family mess. We’re all trying to grow into new relationships with our parents—figuring out who they are now that we’re not just kids anymore.”

Edgar gave a polite laugh but didn’t respond. The hum of the bar filled the pause.

Nicole seemed to notice. “Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Edgar said. “I just… don’t take it for granted, I guess.”

But something tugged at him. A small itch in the back of his mind.

Too good to be true. Jealous. Complicated mess.

He made a mental note.

He took a sip of his drink and smiled at Nicole. “So, who usually does karaoke?”

She laughed and leaned in.

The moment passed.