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He's used to the frantic sort of rush the days can bring; it's hard to remember when the rush wasn't constant. If he's lucky, he's able to collect his breath before he has to run again. If he's even luckier, he'll be able to sleep for a while before something brings him back to the waking world. Luck, however, is seldom an occurrence for him, though he isn't sure he's ever met someone luck was truly kind to. It's a thought that returns to him whenever he finds himself running again, something in an attempt to stall the panic of everything a little; it rarely ever helps.
Today, however, he is not running. Today he works how he does any other day, but he finds himself more inclined to pace himself a little; admittedly, at first he isn't sure whether this calms him or scares him. There's a casual sort of bustle to those who walk the streets below, and there's a relief to the breeze that comes through his window. For the first time in a while, he finds his cup completely empty, having had the time to properly finish a cup of tea for once. He finds himself..expectant, despite it all, and it's when a knock comes on his door that fear seizes him.
He tries to listen for another knock (there's always another if it's someone who's after him), but it never comes. Instead, he hears something set upon his doorstep before the footsteps fade down the hall. He has to take a moment to remind himself to breathe before he opens the door to find a package waiting for him. It does not mention anything about who it is intended for, but it does mention who it is from. A sort of bemusement comes to him as he brings it in, setting it on the table as he brews another cup of tea.
His gaze returns to it once he takes the kettle off the heat. He knows that his editor isn't one to contact him out of the blue, but he also knows that if something were urgent he would've been sent a telegram. He tries to remind himself of this as he starts to unfurl the rope tied around the package, but that doesn't stop him from worrying anyway. The first thing that greats him is a letter that was tangled in the rope, followed instantly by the smell of something sweet. The same "Y.K.E." on the package itself marks the folded paper; a quick way for his editor to notify themselves in a manner simple enough for brevity, but just enough to avoid a second glance from anyone else.
To my kind associate, the letter begins, as simple as many of them tend to be.
It is impossible for me to wish you a happy birthday, considering how your fortune goes, but I hope that today treats you well nonetheless. A small sort of shock comes to him at the realization, less in the sense that he had forgotten, and more in the sense that they had remembered in the first place.
While I cannot gift something grand, perhaps I can give you a quick laugh at the very least.
With all due respect,
Your Kind Editor
Opening the package further makes him relieved he was careful with handling it, for delicately encased within it is what looks to be a piece of lemon cheesecake, still fairly fresh. A quick huff of a laugh leaves him at the realization of the name; of course it was something lemon. He feels a pleasant sort of calm run through him, a small smile coming to him as he looks over the letter again; he makes a note to thank them when he next has the chance.
There's a part of him that knows there's a good chance this calm won't last to tomorrow, and for a moment he decides to bask in it just briefly. Moments like this don't come too often, and he knows it. Sometimes it's good to indulge in them when they come around. Today serves as a much needed solace.