I'm going to become a corporate rat?

The night wore on, I shared with him the unsettling feeling of being watched that had lingered with me since leaving TriColor Corp. Uncle Chen cast a wary glance around the dimly lit area of Megablock 4. A few people milled about, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He sighed and poured another drink, but I shook my head.

"These last few days have been a rollercoaster, Uncle Chen. I think what I really need is some rest," I said, feeling the weight of all the recent events pressing down on me.

Uncle offered to walk me to my flat, but I declined. "I'll be fine. It's not far."

Together, we started cleaning up the stall. Despite his evident tipsiness, Chen moved with a practiced ease, clearing plates and glasses. As we worked, he broached the subject of my job offer again.

"Marlene, take the offer. But don't let those corporate types change who you are. You're stronger than you think," he advised, his voice steady despite the alcohol.

I smiled, a mix of appreciation and contemplation on my face. "You know, I'll be turning 30 this year."

"Ah, thirty," he said, nodding with a smile. "In Chinese culture, it's considered a significant age. It's said to be the time when youth gives way to maturity, when you start to harvest the seeds you've sown in your twenties."

He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "And you know, based on your birthdate, you're born in the Year of the Rat according to the Chinese zodiac. The Rat symbolizes intelligence, adaptability, and resourcefulness. It's also a sign of new beginnings and opportunities."

I couldn't help but let out a light laugh. "So, I'm going to become a corporate rat, then?" The irony wasn't lost on me, but Uncle Chen's insight gave me a sense of peace.

Uncle Chen chuckled softly. "If you are to be a rat, be the cleverest one. Remember, the Rat is also a sign of prosperity and success. Embrace it, Marlene."

We finished cleaning up, and I helped Uncle Chen lock up the stall. "Thank you for everything, Uncle Chen," I said sincerely.

He smiled warmly. "You're always welcome here, Marlene. Remember, wherever you go, be yourself."

With those parting words, I made my way back to my flat, the events of the day replaying in my mind.

Wearily returning to my tiny apartment, I felt the effects of the evening's alcohol beginning to intensify. My mind was fuzzy, thoughts swirling in a haze of uncertainty and liquor. I fumbled with the keys, my hands unsteady, a sense of foreboding creeping up on me. I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, the paranoia heightening my senses.

As I finally managed to unlock the door and pushed it open, a quick movement caught the corner of my eye. I spun around, heart racing, but saw nothing.

"Get a grip, Marlene," I muttered to myself, shaking my head in an attempt to clear the haze. But the sight that greeted me inside my apartment froze me in place.

My apartment, usually my sanctuary of solitude and order, was in complete disarray. Shelves emptied, belongings strewn across the floor, my PC lay overturned like a wounded animal. The sight of my belongings, carelessly violated, sent a wave of anger and violation through me.

My tiny living space was in disarray. Shelves emptied, their contents strewn across the floor. My computer lay on its side, a silent victim of the intrusion. In the bathroom, my shower items were scattered, creating a chaotic mosaic on the tile. Toby, my faithful plant, lay upended, its soil spilled like an open wound.

A cold fear settled in my stomach, cutting through the alcohol's fog. My knees buckled, and I found myself on the floor, gently gathering the spilled earth with trembling hands. Each handful I returned to the pot was an attempt to restore some semblance of order to this chaos.

Toby wasn't just a plant; it was a living piece of my world, a silent witness to the highs and lows within these four walls. As I cradled the pot in my arms, something shifted inside me. This small act of caring for something else, amidst my own turmoil, was a quiet assertion of resilience. "Who would do this?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. The sense of being watched, the persistent unease I had felt earlier, now made a chilling sense.

Hugging Toby to my chest, I moved to sit on the bed, the only uncluttered space. The room felt alien, its violated state casting a shadow over my familiar retreat.

"I'll get through this," I whispered into the green leaves, a promise to both Toby and myself. "We'll get through this together."

After a while, my heart raced as I checked the apartment. Nothing seemed to be stolen, but the message was clear: someone had been here, someone who wanted to intimidate me, to leave their mark of chaos in my orderly world.