It’s curious where words of comfort can come from.

They had met at work—one of those places where, rationally, no one would want to work but still felt grateful to have.

They shared a few things in common: both were from Latin America, both had come to start over in this new country, and both had received the same call:

– “I’m sorry to inform you that the project you were selected for is no longer going forward. However, we have another one starting very soon. Just so you know, though, you’ll need to be available for rotating shifts, including nights, weekends, and holidays if necessary. Are you okay with that?

Desperate because they hadn’t found any other work, both had agreed. And one day, just like that, they found themselves in the training room.

They got along well from the start but had never talked beyond a few short phrases during their rare breaks. The job was exhausting, monotonous, and under constant pressure to meet strict deadlines. The team chiefs had fully embraced the “chief” part of their title and forgot about the “team”.

Still, they had work, and they had to do it while waiting for something better.

That day, they crossed paths again during one of the company’s routine training refreshers. They were seated next to each other, waiting for the trainer, who was running late after lunch.

As is often the case with important conversations, this one started out of nowhere, unintentionally. As usual, it began with complaints about work conditions.

– “Parce, said one of them—that’s how Colombians speak, how they address each other in conversation. “Parce, have you seen the work schedule for December? They just posted it. Check it out.

A chill ran down his spine. December was coming—a time of year he already found unbearably sad, and this one wasn’t shaping up to be any better.

Reluctantly, he opened the schedule on the computer. At first glance, he only noticed that he was assigned to work on the 25th, the 31st, and January 1st.

– “No way, Parce, said El Colo, glancing over his shoulder and letting out a laugh, more from disbelief than amusement.

– “No way, Parce, he repeated. “That’s rough. I’m sorry, man, I really am, he said sincerely.

– “Just what I needed, the other muttered bitterly. “Working 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. on those days, of all days.

– Look again, Parce—it’s 10 p.m. to 7 a.m. You’ll be here all night, every night.

A bucket of ice water would’ve been kinder. As if things weren’t already bad enough, with weekends and holidays taken, no two days off in a row, and a job that had drained his energy and soul, now he had to work the very nights he had hoped for a shred of peace—and, who knows, maybe some celebration.

El Colo crossed his arms, staring into the void. His words drifted across the gray training room, but there was something in his voice that demanded to be heard.

– “Parce, there are days when you just want to throw in the towel, huh? But… you keep going. It’s the only thing you can do.

– “Have you ever felt that way?

– “I’ve got a few stories about that, he replied. “Yeah, I’ve felt like that. I’ve had to start over from scratch a few times. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want it to happen again.

El Colo understood. He didn’t know everything his coworker carried—the fact that he no longer had family back in his home country, that he had come here to rebuild his life from zero. He couldn’t know about the deep pain that followed him or the daily struggle to find a new beginning. He couldn’t know that this man, once a successful professional, was now rebuilding everything, paycheck to paycheck, with no one to turn to, no one to share his burdens. He couldn’t know, but he understood.

Suddenly, El Colo’s face grew more serious but also kinder, and he shifted to a more familiar tone.

– “Parce, do you believe in God?

El Colo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, perhaps waiting for an answer. But the other sat silently, processing what had just been said. It was as if those words had lit a small spark amidst the storm.

– God? Yeah, I believe in Him. But I bet right now He’s looking at me and laughing.

El Colo couldn’t help but laugh at the remark but responded:

– Parce, don’t say that. Things happen for a reason. Whatever mistakes you’ve made don’t define you. I don’t know you well, but I know you’re a good guy. I’ve always wanted to talk to you—I knew I had to tell you something, but I didn’t know what.

“Now I do. Be patient, Parce, day by day. Feel the pain, like you did those other times you mentioned, and move forward one step at a time. Whatever’s going on back home might work itself out. Just have faith. I don’t know how I know this, but you’re a good guy. Just have faith.

– Good afternoon, said the instructor, “sorry for the delay. Let’s continue…

– True, -he thought. – What if the job is unfair right now? What if the situation isn’t ideal? The process can be hard, but everything worthwhile is. And what if the future is uncertain? It’s not written yet, and the one holding the paper and pencil is the one who can write it, as soon as this session ends, or maybe even while we’re still in this session… -He ventured to jot down a few words in the notepad they had been given, as if testing a new pencil, marking the first lines of a path yet to be traveled.

The sky was still cloudy, the room still gray. But somehow, everything seemed a little clearer.