She Smiled All Day at Work — Only Let Herself Feel It at Home

Six hours a day, five days a week, for eight months straight, Thao has had to smile. Customers yell into her headset and she still says "yes ma'am," "of course sir," keeps her voice warm — because that's the job. On the outside, she's always fine. On the inside, something drains a little more every day.

Another call, another customer shouting through the headset. Her mouth is still smiling, but her hands are shaking on the keyboard. At 6pm, she ends the last call and takes the headset off her head — like shedding a piece of armor. Her face finally relaxes.

On the bus home, Thao doesn't open her phone to text anyone. She just watches the streetlights slide past the window. Not thinking about anything. For her, that's a kind of rest too.

Back in her rented room, she closes the door and sits down on the floor — not because there's no chair, but because right now she just wants to sit as low as possible. She doesn't cry. She just breathes. The first real breath she's taken all day.

All day, holding herself up for others. Now, finally, she can sit still for herself.

Is there a day when you have to smile even though you're out of smiles to give?