1：Is er ideal still alive

    Sukiesathunchedoverherdesk，hereyesstrainedfromstaringattheputersforhoursoheofficewasdimlylit，withonlytheflickeringfluorestlightsaboveaglowofputermonitorsprovidingillumination.Itwaswellpastofficehours，andmostofhercolleagueshadalreadygonehome.Thecityoutsidewasalivewiththehumoftraffidthedistantsoundsofnightlife，butSukiewastrappedinthemonotonousgrindofherjob.

    Shesigheddeeply，rubbiemplesinaoalleviatethethrobbingheadachethathadbeenbuildingallday.Herphonebuzzedonthedesk，ahestoseeamessagefromherbestfriend，Jack.

    ＊Jack＊:＂Stillattheoffieedadrink?＂

    Sukiecouldn，thelpbutsmile.Jackalwaysknewwhensheneededabreak.Shequicklyt