Wednesday. End of the month.

Phum had paired with Baitoey four times over the past ten days. Five hours total.

After each session he went back to his desk and worked. He started writing better comments. Started testing the edge cases Baitoey had flagged. Started having a new habit — but Phum didn't yet know it was a *new habit*.

He thought: *just normal work.*

15:47.

Phum walked from his desk to the office kitchen — past Baitoey's desk — she wasn't there, probably in a meeting room.

On her desk: closed MacBook. The small notebook she used for bullets. Two black pens. A single fig lift. A bottle of water from a convenience store.

And — the book.

The book whose orange cover stood out against the bleached colors of the office. *ATOMIC HABITS* in bold black. *James Clear* in smaller letters underneath.

Phum stopped for two seconds.

He had seen this cover as a meme on Twitter — a self-help bible for the tech-bro / startup / LinkedIn-influencer crowd. The kind of people who post "1% better every day" with motivational graphics.

Phum picked it up before realizing he was picking it up.

Opened the table of contents.

Chapter 1: *The Surprising Power of Atomic Habits.*

*Atomic* — small — combine into large — clever, he thought, dryly.

He flipped to a random page.

"Habits are the compound interest of self-improvement. The effects of your habits multiply as you repeat them. They seem to make little difference on any given day and yet the impact they deliver over the months and years can be enormous. It is only when looking back two, five, or ten years later that the value of good habits and the cost of bad habits becomes strikingly clear."

Phum saw that someone had underlined "the value of good habits and the cost of bad habits becomes strikingly clear" — a clean line drawn in black ink.

Drawn with a ruler.

Baitoey had drawn it.

Phum flipped another page.

"You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current results."

She had underlined "trajectory" twice.

He flipped another page — at random, not meaning to — and saw the graph.

*1% better every day for one year = 37x better.*

Ah.

This was the graph Phum had mocked on Twitter — the exponential curve every tech influencer had shared at least a hundred times.

Phum smiled to himself. *1% of a commit message? 1% of a stack trace? Sure.*

He placed the book back where it had been — in the exact same spot, same angle. He was careful about it without realizing he was being careful.

Then he turned.

Baitoey was standing at the end of the desk.

In that moment Phum thought in three simultaneous layers:
One — did she see everything?
Two — what should I say?
Three — what perfume does she use? Because right then the scent had entered his nose.

"…I was reading."

Baitoey smiled. Not wide, not small. "Yes?"

"You read this?"

"Twice."

Phum waited — waited for her to say something defensive or proud or explanatory — but she didn't. She waited.

Phum felt that he had to keep talking.

"…is it any good?"

"That depends on whether you want to try changing anything, P'Phum."

"…"

"If you only read it without trying — then no, actually. It isn't."

Phum laughed — the first laugh of his day — because she had answered politely, directly, but with a small bite he had not expected.

"…yeah."

"Coffee?" Baitoey asked.

"What?"

"You were going to the kitchen, weren't you? Coffee?"

"…yes."

"Then please."

She sat down at her desk, opened the MacBook. Phum kept walking to the kitchen.

In the kitchen he stood by the coffee machine, pressed the espresso button.

The machine started — loud — the smell of coffee mixed with the slightly stale air of the kitchen. A smell he had known for four years.

But today, standing there waiting, in his head he kept turning over: *do you want to try changing anything, P'Phum.*

Not *do you need to change.*

Not *you should change.*

*Do you want to try.*

He didn't know how to answer that either.

The machine beeped. The coffee was done.

Phum picked up the cup — but before walking back, he opened the fridge in the kitchen — saw a carton of orange juice.

Picked up the juice.

Put the coffee down on the counter — changed his mind.

Took the juice back to his desk instead.

In his head he knew he was doing something odd — normally he drank coffee every afternoon, to push past the slump.

But the thought *do you want to try changing anything* — it was just that.

Try.

He walked back to his desk — past Baitoey — she didn't look up — he didn't dare look at her.

Her perfume was fading now — the kitchen fumes had taken over — but Phum still remembered.

He sat down.

Drank the juice.

Cold.

Sweet.

In his head he compared it to canned coffee — not better — just… different.

19:45.

Phum left work — before 8 p.m., the third time in two months.

He passed Baitoey's desk on the way out. "P'Phum is heading off," he said. She looked up and nodded. "Get home safe."

In the elevator Phum thought about the book again.

Orange cover.

The clean underline.

*Trajectory.*

Phum opened the Kindle app on his phone — searched *Atomic Habits* — and saw that it was in his library.

Huh?

He opened it. Tapped *Purchased* at the top — but he didn't remember buying it — checked his purchase history.

*Atomic Habits — Gifted by Dear Phuchong — 14 March 2024.*

A birthday present from his sister last year.

That he had never opened.

Phum laughed out loud, alone in the elevator. The sound bounced off the walls.

The elevator opened at ground floor.

He walked out toward the BTS.

On the train home — Phum didn't open Twitter.

He opened the Kindle.

Opened chapter one.

Read three pages before reaching his stop.

He put the phone down. The feeling in his chest wasn't excitement, wasn't enthusiasm — it was a feeling he hadn't had since his first year of computer engineering at Chula — *curiosity*.

A curiosity that had been missing for what felt like a lifetime.

After getting off the BTS, walking back to the apartment, he was still turning over the lines he'd read.

At the apartment — opened the fridge — didn't reach for the coffee — drank plain water.

Didn't open the laptop — opened the Kindle.

Read for forty minutes — got to the section on the *Four Laws of Behavior Change* — Make it Obvious, Make it Attractive, Make it Easy, Make it Satisfying.

He stopped for two minutes — got up and moved the instant noodles from his bedside table — put them in the cabinet.

In his head he thought: *make it less easy.*

Then he thought he must sound like a tech-bro on LinkedIn — the kind of person he used to mock.

But here he was, alone in his apartment. No one was watching.

So he tried.

The noodles went into the cabinet.

The room looked very slightly cleaner.

Before sleeping — 11:30 — he was still awake in his head, but his body was tired.

Opened the Kindle again.

Read another ten pages.

Slept.

11:58.

Four hours earlier than before.

The fan in his room was still turning, still clicking.

His nose still picked up the faint sour smell from the blanket.

But tonight Phum fell asleep without thinking *tomorrow will be the same.*

He fell asleep thinking — *tomorrow I'll try one thing.*

One thing.

Just one.

Just try.

星期三。月末。

过去十天里,阿普和拜黛pair了四次,加起来五个小时。

每次结束后他都回到自己的位置工作。他开始写更好的代码注释。开始测拜黛标出来的edge case。开始养成一个新的习惯——但他还不知道那是"新习惯"。

他以为:*只是正常工作。*

15:47。

阿普从自己的位置走向办公室的茶水间——经过拜黛的位置——她不在,大概在会议室。

她桌上:合着的MacBook。她用来记bullet的小笔记本。两支黑笔。一支无花果味的lip balm。便利店买的一瓶矿泉水。

还有——那本书。

那本橘色封面的书,在办公室褪色的色调中很显眼。*ATOMIC HABITS*,粗体黑字。*James Clear*,小一些的字在下面。

阿普停了两秒。

他在Twitter上见过这个封面的meme——是给tech bro / startup / LinkedIn博主们的自我提升圣经。那种会发"每天进步1%"配励志图的人。

阿普还没意识到自己在做什么,就把书拿起来了。

翻到目录。

第一章:*The Surprising Power of Atomic Habits*。

*原子*——小——加起来变大——挺聪明的,他在心里干干地说。

他随便翻到一页。

"Habits are the compound interest of self-improvement. The effects of your habits multiply as you repeat them. They seem to make little difference on any given day and yet the impact they deliver over the months and years can be enormous. It is only when looking back two, five, or ten years later that the value of good habits and the cost of bad habits becomes strikingly clear."

阿普看到有人用黑笔画了下划线——"the value of good habits and the cost of bad habits becomes strikingly clear"。

线很干净。

是用尺画的。

拜黛画的。

阿普又翻了一页。

"You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current results."

她在"trajectory"下画了两条线。

他又随便翻了一页——看到了那张图。

*每天进步1%,一年后是37倍。*

啊。

就是阿普在Twitter上嘲笑过的那张图——每个tech influencer至少分享过一百次的指数曲线。

阿普心里笑了。*commit message的1%?stack trace的1%?好的。*

他把书放回原处——同样的位置,同样的角度。他下意识地很小心。

然后转身。

拜黛站在桌子的另一头。

那一刻阿普脑子里同时在三层想:
一,她看到全部了吗?
二,我该说什么?
三,她用的是什么香水?因为那一瞬间味道飘进了他的鼻子。

"……我在看。"

拜黛微微一笑。不大,也不小。"嗯?"

"你也读这本?"

"读了两遍。"

阿普等着——等她说点防御性的、自豪的、或者解释性的话——但她没有。她在等。

阿普觉得自己得继续说下去。

"……好看吗?"

"看你想不想试着改变点什么,阿普先生。"

"……"

"如果你只是读,不去试——那其实不好。"

阿普笑了——这是他今天第一次笑——因为她回答得礼貌,直接,但带着一点他没想到的辛辣。

"……嗯。"

"咖啡吗?"拜黛问。

"什么?"

"你不是要去茶水间吗?去冲咖啡?"

"……是。"

"那请便。"

她坐回自己的位置,打开MacBook。阿普继续往茶水间走。

茶水间里他站在咖啡机旁,按下了espresso按钮。

机器开始转——很响——咖啡的味道夹杂着茶水间有点闷的空气。是他熟悉了四年的味道。

但是今天,在那里等的时候,他脑子里在反复转一句话:*你想不想试着改变点什么,阿普先生。*

不是*必须改变。*

不是*应该改变。*

*想不想试。*

他也回答不出来。

机器响了。咖啡好了。

阿普端起杯子——但是走回去之前——他打开了茶水间的冰箱——看到一盒橙汁。

拿起橙汁。

把咖啡放回台面——改主意。

带着橙汁回到位置上。

他知道自己在做一件奇怪的事——平时他每天下午都要喝咖啡,熬过午后的困倦。

但是那句*想不想试着改变点什么*——就只是这样。

试一下。

他走回桌边——经过拜黛的位置——她没抬头——他也不敢看她。

她香水的味道在淡——茶水间的味道盖了上去——但阿普还记得。

他坐下。

喝橙汁。

凉。

甜。

他在脑子里把它和罐装咖啡比较——不是说更好喝——只是……不一样。

19:45。

阿普下班——晚上八点之前,两个月以来第三次。

经过拜黛的位置时,他说:"阿普先生先走了。"她抬起头点头:"路上小心。"

电梯里阿普又想起那本书。

橘色封面。

干净的下划线。

*Trajectory。*

阿普在手机上打开Kindle App——搜索*Atomic Habits*——发现已经在他的库里。

嗯?

他点开。点了顶上的*已购买*——他不记得买过——查了购买记录。

*Atomic Habits——蒂尔·普颂(妹妹)赠送,2024年3月14日。*

去年生日时妹妹送的礼物。

他从来没打开过。

阿普一个人在电梯里大笑出声。声音撞在墙上。

电梯在一楼打开。

他走出去,朝BTS走去。

回家的列车上——阿普没打开Twitter。

打开了Kindle。

打开了第一章。

到他下车的那一站之前,读了三页。

放下手机。胸口的那种感觉不是兴奋,不是热情——是一种他从大一计算机工程时期之后没再有过的感觉——*好奇*。

一种仿佛丢失了一辈子的好奇心。

下了BTS,走回公寓,脑子里还在反刍读过的那几句话。

回到房间——开冰箱——没碰咖啡——喝白水。

没打开笔记本电脑——继续打开Kindle。

读了四十分钟——读到讲*行为改变四定律*那一节——让它显眼、让它有吸引力、让它容易、让它令人满足。

他停了两分钟——起身把床头柜上的方便面挪到柜子里。

脑子里他想:*让它不那么容易。*

然后他想自己听上去一定像LinkedIn上的tech bro——他过去嘲笑的那种人。

但他现在只是一个人在房间里。没人看见。

所以他试了。

方便面进了柜子。

房间看起来稍微干净了一点。

睡前——11:30——他心里还醒着,但身体已经累了。

又打开Kindle。

又读了十页。

睡着。

11:58。

比之前早了四个小时。

房间里的吊扇还在转,还在咔嗒咔嗒。

鼻子还能闻到被子上那种淡淡的酸味。

但今晚阿普没有想"明天还是一样"地睡着。

他在睡着前想的是——*明天试一件事。*

一件。

只是一件。

试试。