🌸 心に残る物語を。 Stories that stay with you. ✨
Joined January 2025
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Maya retweeted
This morning I woke up to a glass of water on my dresser with a sticky note next to it. It said "for hungover me" in my own handwriting, all loopy and slanted.
My head was pounding and my mouth was so dry, so I didn't think twice. I grabbed the glass and chugged half of it.
It was tequila.
Straight tequila. I coughed so hard I almost fell off the bed, and my roommate Jenna came running in with a spatula in her hand, asking if I was being murdered.
"Drunk me did this," I wheezed, holding up the note. "Drunk me put TEQUILA in a water glass and left it for me."
Jenna looked at the glass. Then at me. Then she started laughing so hard she had to lean on the doorframe.
Maya retweeted
I returned home after a 14-hour shift and found my wife waiting in the bedroom.
She had showered, changed into her favourite nightwear, and prepared the room with candles.
Wife: “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Me: “I’m sorry, baby. Today was terrible. I’m completely exhausted.”
She walked toward me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
Wife: “I don’t want an apology. I want my husband.”
I kissed her forehead.
Me: “I want to spend time with you too, but tonight I genuinely need sleep.”
Her smile disappeared.
Wife: “You always need sleep.”
Me: “I’ve worked for fourteen hours. What do you expect me to do?”
She looked at me for a moment, then picked up my pillow and placed it outside the bedroom.
I stared at her.
Me: “Are you seriously kicking me out?”
Wife: “No. I’m giving you the rest you keep asking for.”
Me: “Baby, don’t start this tonight.”
She folded her arms.
Wife: “I’m not starting anything. I’m simply giving you exactly what you want.”
She closed the bedroom door.
I stood in the hallway holding my pillow, wondering how a request for sleep had turned into an argument.
I eventually went to the guest room.
But the following morning, I discovered she had done something I never expected.
Maya retweeted
I took a bike to run a quick errand, and immediately I climbed on, I noticed the bike man was smelling so nice and looking exceptionally neat.
I just knew my pocket was in trouble.
When we got to my destination, he called an outrageous amount. I laughed and asked him why the fare was so much.
This man said he wanted to keep the change and use it to buy something for himself. 😭
I was just wondering, how am I responsible for your fresh appearance? Did I ask you to smell this good?
Baba just wanted to be fresh, but apparently, looking good comes with extra charges now. 😂
Have you ever experienced something like this?
Maya retweeted
If you haven’t seen GOT , then you won’t understand what this scene did to us GOT fans .
An absolutely PEAK CINEMA 🎦
Maya retweeted
Imagine waking up surrounded by Chucky, Pennywise, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger and every other horror nightmare staring down at you. No escape, no hiding place. 😭💀 Who are you most terrified of seeing first, and how are you getting out alive? 🔪🎈
Maya retweeted
Une internaute dans un commentaire :J'ai perdu ma dignité qd je lui ai demandé « on est quoi? » et qu'il m'a répondu « on est mercredi »
Maya retweeted
"Doesn't take initiative." That's what the form said, in the box where the comments go.
I read it, nodded, and said, "Thank you for the feedback."
That evening, I opened our ticket system. It lets you filter by who created a ticket. For the past year, I'd been quietly opening improvement tickets whenever something in our process looked broken. A form that confused people. A step that did nothing.
A report nobody read.
I filtered by my name and exported the list.
Sixty-three tickets. Fifty-one had been closed, and most of them with a note saying "done" and somebody else's name beside it.
Then I changed the filter to his name. The list came back almost empty.
I printed both on one page, side by side, with my column on the left. At the end-of-year discussion, a director sat in. He slid the form across the table and asked, "Anything you'd like to say?"
I turned the page around so it faced him. I didn't say anything...
Maya retweeted
The woman next door, a calm, soft-spoken piano tutor in her late forties, stopped me outside the lift with a worried smile.
Neighbour: "I'm sorry to ask this, but are you the one practising at night?"
Me: "Practising what?"
Neighbour: "The piano. Every night at 3 a.m., someone plays the same melody through our shared wall."
Me: "I don't own a piano."
Neighbour: "That's what I told myself, too."
She took out her phone and played me a recording. A slow, gentle tune filled the corridor, simple and strangely sad.
Me: "That's beautiful. But it isn't coming from my flat."
Neighbour: "It is. I've checked the wall. The sound starts on your side."
I went home and searched every room. No piano, no keyboard, not even a speaker.
At 3 a.m., I woke to the first note.
It came from the corner of my bedroom, where nothing stood but an empty patch of floor. I listened, frozen, as the melody played to the end.
Then a voice whispered, very softly, close to my ear.
Voice: "Thank you for listening. She never does."
