A.J Clement @RealAJClement

Gave myself another creative challenge. 🎧 Created a premium earbuds commercial from scratch for a fictional brand. AURA - Hear What Moves You.

I Gave myself a simple challenge: create a burger commercial. 🍔 BITE HOUSE - One Bite. No Regrets.

@umitsuru_fire 僕は70kg〜80kgくらいが好みです

Then you go back to thinking about all 20 things. Some things are easier to keep in your head than explain out loud.

There is a strange thing about getting older. You can have 20 things on your mind, but when someone asks, “What is wrong?” suddenly you say: “Nothing. I am fine.”

My new landlord called me less than an hour after I moved into my apartment. He did not even say hello. His first words were, "Please tell me you have not unpacked the bedroom yet." I looked at the half-open boxes around me. "No. Why?" There was a long pause. Then he said, "I think I made a terrible mistake." I had signed the lease that morning. The apartment was clean. Fresh paint. New locks. Nothing looked unusual. When I asked him what was wrong, he only said, "I am on my way." He arrived about twenty minutes later looking more nervous than I had ever seen him. He unlocked the apartment with his spare key. Walked straight past me. And went into the bedroom. He opened the closet. Checked behind the door. Looked under the bed. Then he finally turned around. "It is empty." I stared at him. "What exactly were you expecting to find?" ....

I was the last person to leave the office that Friday. If I had gone home five minutes earlier I never would have seen what happened. I worked as the night security guard for a small accounting firm. Most evenings were predictable. Lock the side entrance. Walk each floor. Turn off the lights etc. That Friday, I was halfway through my final round when I noticed one office was still lit. I assumed someone had forgotten to switch off the light. When I opened the door, the company's newest employee was sitting alone at his desk. He looked startled. "I lost track of time," he said. I nodded. "Happens." I started to leave. Then he said, "Can I ask you something?" I turned around. "If you found something at work that could get someone fired, would you report it?" I laughed. "That depends on what it is." .......

That man saved me from unnecessary stress. Sometimes it pays to wait a few more minutes before assuming the worst.

“lCheck your account again. I did. The money had been reversed. That man had experienced the same thing at that ATM before. I honestly would have gone home thinking I had lost ₦20,000, or even started making a scene because it was Saturday and the bank was closed.....

I went to withdraw ₦20,000 from an ATM on Saturday. The machine debited my account but did not dispense the cash. I was already getting angry when the security guard told me, Wait. Sometimes the money comes back. I waited. Nothing happened. Then a man behind me said.....

Six hours before he walked in, someone else had already used his name to steal his medicine. He had no idea. I did. I had been a pharmacist for almost thirteen years. Most nights followed the same routine. Answer questions. Fill prescriptions. Double-check everything. Lock the doors. About fifteen minutes before closing, an elderly man walked in carrying a prescription with trembling hands. "I know you are about to close," he said, "but I really need this tonight." I smiled and took the paper. As I entered his information into the computer, a warning flashed across my screen. The medication had already been filled that morning. At another pharmacy. I checked again. Same prescription. Same dosage. Same doctor. Just six hours earlier. .....

The woman checking into Room 214 asked me to do something I had never been asked in twelve years at the front desk. "If no one sees me leave by noon tomorrow..." "...call the police." She smiled when she said it. Not a nervous smile. Just the kind of smile people wear when they do not want strangers asking questions. I laughed because I thought she was joking. She did not laugh back. Instead, she slid a folded piece of paper across the counter. "My brother's number is inside." "If everything goes well, you will never need it." Before I could ask another question, she picked up her suitcase and walked toward the elevators. I stood there for a moment, wondering what I had just agreed to. Part of me wanted to call security. ......

@jon_d_doe 27 years is a long time to know someone, and the way you describes her shows you appreciates her after all these years. Love and sacrifice is something money cannot replace.

The last package on my delivery route wasn't supposed to change anyone's life. I almost marked it as "No Answer" and drove away. I've delivered packages to the same neighborhoods for nearly eight years. After a while, you stop remembering addresses. You remember people. The retired teacher who always left cold water on hot afternoons. The little boy who'd wave from the upstairs window every Thursday. The woman who ordered enough dog treats to keep the entire neighborhood's pets happy. Then there was Mr. Carter. Every Tuesday. Always home. Always waiting before I even knocked. If I got there five minutes early, he'd already be standing by the front window. One Tuesday, I knocked. Nothing. I knocked again. Still nothing......

The man was quietly writing something. I did not disturb him. Before leaving, I asked the waiter one more question. Does he ever read the letters? He shook his head. He puts them in a box at home. A few months later, I passed by the restaurant again. The table was empty. I asked about him. The waiter told me the man had stopped coming. He had moved closer to his daughter. Then he smiled and said, But he left something behind. The restaurant had kept one of the letters. Not because they had opened it. The man had given it to them before leaving. It simply said, “Thank you for giving me somewhere to remember her.” I used to think an empty chair meant someone was missing. That night, I realized sometimes an empty chair means someone is still being remembered.

Instead, I walked out. The following week, I returned to the same restaurant. The man was there again. This time I asked the waiter, Does he come here often? The waiter smiled and said, Every Thursday. I asked why. He lowered his voice. That was his wife's seat. I looked at the table again. The waiter explained that she had passed away the previous year. They had been coming to that restaurant every Thursday for nearly twenty years. After she died, the man continued coming alone. I asked, Does he really sit there for the whole evening? The waiter nodded. Then he said something I did not expect. He doesn't come because he thinks she is coming back. Then why does he keep the seat? The waiter pointed toward the envelope. Every week, he writes her a letter. I looked over. .......

I almost asked the restaurant staff to remove an empty chair from our table. I am glad I didn't. I was having dinner with two friends when we noticed a man sitting alone at the table beside us. There was an empty chair opposite him. Every few minutes, he would look at it. At first, I assumed he was waiting for someone. After almost an hour, nobody came. The waiter brought him another glass of water, and the man quietly asked, Has anyone called? The waiter shook his head. The man looked at the empty chair again. Something about it felt strange. When we were leaving, I noticed he had placed a small envelope on the empty seat. I wanted to ask him about it. .......

For the last four years, every time our merchant vessel docked at the port of Tyre, my business partner, Marcus, logged an identical inventory discrepancy: 40 bushels of high-grade wheat missing from the cargo manifest. In our line of trade, four dozen bushels per quarter wasn't enough to bankrupt us, but it was enough to ruin our margins. Worse, it was systematic. Marcus had maintained our shipping ledgers for over a decade, and I trusted him implicitly.

I almost deleted a wedding photo because I thought it was ruined. I'm glad I looked at it one more time. I've been a wedding photographer for almost eleven years. Most people think my job ends when the ceremony is over. It doesn't. The real work starts when I sit alone for hours sorting through thousands of photos. Most of them never leave my computer. Blinking. Bad lighting. Someone walking into the frame. Delete. Delete. Delete. Near the end of one wedding, I stopped on a photo I didn't even remember taking. The bride and groom were laughing during the reception. Everyone's attention was on them. Except one person......

I found an envelope in our restaurant's lost-and-found that wasn't meant for me. I should've handed it to my manager unopened. Instead... I read the first line. I still think about that decision. I'd worked at the restaurant for almost four years. Every few months we would clean out the lost-and-found. Phone chargers. Umbrellas. Kids jackets. The usual. At the very bottom of an old plastic bin was a sealed envelope. On the front, written in neat handwriting, were just four words. For Daniel. Only Daniel. Daniel was our manager. He had worked there longer than anyone. I figured someone had forgotten to give it to him. I was about to drop it on his desk when I noticed there wasn't a stamp. No address. Nothing. Just his name. Curiosity got the better of me. I slid one finger under the flap. The first sentence stopped me cold. «If you're reading this, it means I never found the courage to tell you in person.» My stomach dropped. I knew I shouldn't keep reading. But I did. The letter was from someone named Megan. She'd worked at the restaurant years before I was hired. She wrote that she had been the one responsible for a mistake that got another employee fired. Daniel had spent years believing he'd made the right decision. According to the letter... He hadn't. She admitted she had stayed quiet because she was scared of losing her own job. She ended the letter with one sentence.