When I woke up, there was a series of numbers on my left arm. To be precise, it was a percentage - 100%. I put on my suit as usual, walked to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my face, shaved, picked up a sandwich and a bar of instant coffee from the food place, and picked up my briefcase.
For me, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer yesterday, it doesn't matter if the percentage appears on my hand.
My only goal now is to walk through the alley, rush to the subway station, change to line 1 or 2, walk into the company and stand in the boss's office, throw my resignation letter in his face, scold him with all my life's knowledge, then walk out of the office proudly, pack up my things and throw them into the trash can.
I was eating my sandwich, just in time to catch the subway, so everything went smoothly. However, when I was leaving the station, a tall figure on the left accidentally spilled the coffee in his hand on my suit. Seeing that the young man felt a little guilty and hurriedly wiped it for me, I didn't say anything... It's not that I'm open-minded; He is about to die, so small things like this don't matter... Well, I'm afraid that he will anger him and make me unable to survive... Okay, I admit, it's because he looks too good for me... The "ideal lover" I met today, I wish I had used less strength when I handed out my resignation...
I learned from the young man that today was his first day at work and he was a little anxious, so I let him go first and walked into the public toilet to clean the stains.
He took me to the downstairs of the company on time at 8:00, and the 100% in my hand became 98%.
Mission: Patriotism, Dedication, Integrity, Friendliness