I had ninety minutes and nowhere to be yet.

There was enough time to go home if I did not mind turning around as soon as I arrived. I minded. The first shift ended at two; the second began at four across town. I stood outside the shop doing the arithmetic for the third time, as though the buses might reward persistence.

On the first week of that schedule, I had filled the gap with errands. I bought toothpaste, returned a parcel and reached the second job carrying a bag that had become a household inventory. I ate standing up before clocking in.

This week I had brought less. The things for the second shift were already in my work bag. The shopping list remained at home, where it could not make persuasive suggestions.

I chose the place with a seat.

There was a cafe near the bus stop where I knew the price of lunch and the location of the washroom. I could afford to sit there that day. I bought a sandwich and asked for a table away from the doorway, because I did not want my coat to become part of the queue.

I checked the journey to the next job, set a reminder with room for the walk and put the phone beside my bag. I kept it available for work messages I was actually expected to receive. I did not open every other thing it offered.

For a while I watched someone across the street change a handwritten price on a display. They stood back, reconsidered it, and changed the last digit again. I understood the urge to make the numbers come out differently.

The gap did not become a new project.

I had brought a book. I read a few pages, then stopped because I was thinking about the sandwich. It contained pickles I particularly liked. I finished it before the bread went dry.

The cafe was an option for that day, not a rule for every gap. Some weeks I used a library reading area when its hours worked; some days I had to go straight to the next place. I kept a short list of places I knew, with their practical limits, so each shift did not require another search.

When the reminder sounded, I packed slowly enough to check under the chair. The journey was ordinary. I arrived with the things I needed and no extra shopping to keep track of.

A colleague asked what I had done between shifts. "Had lunch," I said. It sounded like a small answer for ninety minutes. It was also accurate for the first time in several weeks.