Something still more portentous, like a black expectation, now hovered in the air, so that even the rain seemed intimidated; a speechless darkness fell over the atmosphere. And suddenly, like a scream, a dreadful day shattered. The light of a cold hell swept through the contents of all things, filling minds and crannies. Everything gaped in awe, and then heaved a sigh of relief, for the strike had passed. The almost human sound* of the sad rain was happy. Hearts automatically pounded hard, and thinking made one dizzy. A vague religion formed in the office. No one was himself, and Senhor Vasques appeared at the door of his office to say he didn’t quite know what. Moreira smiled, the fringes of his face still yellow from the sudden fright, and his smile was no doubt saying that the next bolt of thunder would strike further away. A swift wagon loudly broke in on the usual noises from the street. The telephone shivered uncontrollably. Instead of retreating to his private office, Vasques stepped towards the phone in the common office. There was a respite, a silence, and the rain fell like a nightmare. Vasques forgot about the phone, which had stopped ringing. The office boy fidgeted in the back of the office like a bothersome object.

An enormous joy, full of deliverance and peace of mind, disconcerted us all. We returned to our work a bit light-headed, becoming spontaneously sociable and pleasant with each other. Without being told to, the office boy opened wide the windows. The fragrance of something fresh entered with the damp air into the office. The now gentle rain fell humbly. The sounds from the street, which were the same as before, were different. We could hear the voices of the wagoners, and they were really people. The clear-ringing bells of the trams a block over participated in our sociability. A lone child’s burst of laughter was like a canary in the limpid atmosphere. The gentle rain tapered off.

It was six o’clock. The office was closing. Through the half-open door of his private office Senhor Vasques said, ‘You can all go now,’ pronouncing the words like a business benediction. I immediately stood up, closed the ledger and put it away. I returned my pen with a deliberate gesture to its place in the inkstand, walked towards Moreira while pronouncing a ‘See you tomorrow’ full of hope, and then shook his hand as if he’d done me a big favour.