Tick tick. The sound of a clock.

Tick tick. The sound in your head when the day starts leaning sideways.

Tick tick. Voices changing. Targets shifting. Someone asking for something yesterday.

Tick tick. Across the floor — his desk never tilted.

Tick tick. Unruled notebook. Colour-coded pens. To-dos written like they were inevitable.

Tick tick. No scratch marks. No frantic arrows. Just order.

Tick tick. Storm outside. Order inside.

Tick tick. Managed bosses without noise. Managed teams without ego. Gave space when space was needed. Stepped in when stepping in mattered.

Tick tick. With help. Without help. Same result.

Tick tick. And still had time for nonsense.

Tick tick. Stories.

Tick tick. Of pranks from another era. Precision planned. Executed with suspicious innocence. Told with a straight face that made them even better.

Tick tick. Five minutes of banter. Zero heaviness.

Tick tick. I would walk over mid-meltdown. Snap his notebook shut. Pretend I had disrupted the system.

Tick tick. He'd look up. Amused. Unrattled.

Tick tick. Back to work. Strangely steadier.

Tick tick. Some people organise tasks. Some people organise energy.

Tick tick. Rare ones do both without announcing it.

Tick tick. On my last day —

Tick tick. He handed me a small bundle.

Tick tick. A book on writing. What to do when you're stuck.

Tick tick. His signature pens. Random coffee sachets. "For when you need the kick."

Tick tick. No speech. No big moment. Very him.

Tick tick. Which is funny.

Tick tick. For someone who colour-codes everything…

Tick tick. He never once tried to colour-code people.

Tick tick. He just let them sit down, shut his notebook, breathe, and go back better.

Tick tick. Some people leave you with memories. Some leave you equipped.

Tick tick. Still the calmest desk in the room.

Tick tick.

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