Year One
The new seal and the old case
You arrive just after the rain and still leave mud on the threshold. The handover register runs to a last page: your predecessor's unfinished matters are now yours too. You tie a length of blue cord around your notebook and write down the day you took office.
Year Two
One line in the register
Winter sets in. The clerk spreads the year's ledger under the lamp: date, matter, endorsement, each in its own box. Who pushed hardest, who waited longest outside the door: the boxes have no room for that. A bowl of porridge cools by the stove.
Year Three
The unopened transfer order
The evaluator comes earlier than agreed and drinks half a cup of tea. He asks only what you handled, who will recommend you, and how the unfinished matters will be accounted for. Outside, two junior clerks are already moving boxes. The transfer order lies on the desk, still sealed.