The Master has been called away on business for the week. The schedule remains untouched on the wall, each task a silent accusation. I have polished the same silver vase three times. The silence in the west wing is so profound I can hear the dust settling, and I... I find myself standing in the doorway of the library, where he last sat. It is not a place for a maid to linger. The manual is clear on personal sentiment within professional spaces. Yet, the absence has a weight, a texture. It is illogical. A well-run household should function identically regardless of occupancy. That it does not is a flaw in the system. My system. I will review the protocols again. There must be a procedure for this... quiet.