S1E5: Downingville Days

A Work2gether Fiction Series

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Riley hadn’t realized how much she needed fresh air until Maya appeared at the bar, coffee in hand, looking… exhausted.

"Want to take a walk?" Maya asked, almost shyly.

It wasn’t just a casual ask. It was the kind of ask that carried invisible weight.

Riley shut her laptop without hesitation. "Let’s go."

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Downingville Square looked postcard-perfect.

The sidewalks curved under old maple trees just starting to leaf out. Shop windows gleamed with handmade signs: Thread & Clover Boutique, Lou’s Hardware, The Daily Grind Café. Some windows even had cheerful "Shop Small!" decals that looked like they'd survived three economic recessions and a pandemic.

Kids raced each other across the little town green, their parents trailing behind, balancing coffee cups and long conversations about weekend plans.

Maya and Riley strolled past The Daily Grind, where Chris and Julian were visible through the window — hunched over the corner table, unwrapping massive deli sandwiches, deep in a half-laughing, half-debating conversation.

"They look way too proud of that lunch," Maya joked.

Riley smiled. "Men are easily impressed by sandwiches."

As they crossed the street, Riley found herself glancing at Maya.

There had been a time, not that long ago, when Maya had seriously intimidated her — not in a mean way, but in a "how is she real?" kind of way. Attractive, polished, well-spoken, somehow managing motherhood, marriage (to Chris, somehow), and running a wildly talented architecture firm.

It had taken Riley months to realize that under all that composure was someone just as human as the rest of them.

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As they neared the park, Riley spotted Bev through the window of the town’s little bookstore — wearing her signature wide-brim hat and arguing with a teenage clerk about why hardcover prices were "highway robbery."

"Should we rescue him?" Riley asked.

Maya grinned. "He’s on his own."

They passed quickly before Bev could rope them into a lecture on publishing industry corruption.

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Across the street, Zay attempted to parallel park his Civic — badly. Hazards flashing, tires squeaking.

Standing nearby, arms crossed with tactical patience, was the Parking Lady.

"I'm mostly in the spot," Zay said hopefully as he got out.

"You’re mostly a liability," the Parking Lady replied, already reaching for her ticket pad.

Julian and Chris, safely behind the café window, pretended not to know him.

"I aspire to that level of authority," Maya said.

"He’s definitely going to try to talk his way out of it," Riley said, watching Zay attempt a high-five that the Parking Lady pointedly ignored.

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The park smelled like fresh-cut grass and distant grilling burgers. Families lounged on picnic blankets. Dogs dragged their owners into mud puddles.

A local townie wearing two sunhats stacked on his head waved a cheerful, slightly toothless hello.

"Small towns are weird," Maya said.

"And wonderful," Riley added.

They found an empty bench under a blooming crabapple tree. For a minute, they just sat, letting the sunlight soak into winter-tired skin.

Finally, Maya spoke.

"Chris and I found Work2gether about two and a half years ago," she said. "We couldn’t survive another month working from home with a baby."

She glanced toward the fountain, where a toddler was trying to catch pigeons with a juice box.

"My son’s three now. Smart, stubborn, already better at negotiating than I am."

Riley smiled, waiting.

"I used to be... somebody," Maya said, half-laughing at herself. "Marketing director. Big office. Travel. Team meetings. Corporate retreats. You know the drill."

"And now?"

"Now I'm squeezing emails between daycare pickups and client calls. Working weird hours because naptime is my new deadline. Half the time I feel invisible. Half the time I feel guilty for wanting more."

Riley stayed quiet, letting the words land without trying to fix them.

"I thought coworking would just be a desk," Maya said, softer now. "But it’s more than that."

She picked a piece of lint off her sleeve.

"It’s proof," she said. "Proof that I’m still here. Still thinking, still dreaming, still... me. Even when everything else feels like it belongs to someone else now."

Riley nodded — not the polite kind — the real kind.

"You're not failing," she said. "You're surviving. That's harder than anyone admits."

Maya blinked hard, looking away again toward the fountain.

"I miss feeling like I'm building something," she admitted. "Instead of just holding it all together with duct tape and late coffee."

"You are building something," Riley said gently. "You're building a life."

Maya exhaled — a long, wobbly breath.

"And hey," Riley added, nudging her with a shoulder. "You’re officially the most impressive person I know who hasn’t microwaved fish in a shared workspace. That's gotta count for something."

Maya laughed — a real laugh, cracked wide open.

"Small victories," she said.

"Only kind that matter," Riley agreed.

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Meanwhile, back at Work2gether, Eddie was trapped behind the bar by Monica, the owner of Thread & Clover Boutique.

Monica was about five-foot-three, wore massive gold earrings, and spoke with the breathless speed of a game show contestant.

"I’m telling you, Eddie — we need a full Downingville Days Festival! Block the street! Live music! Pet parade! Best-dressed storefront contest! Free mimosas at participating businesses! I’ll run point, you just rally your people!"

Eddie, who had been sipping his Americano like it was armor, nodded carefully.

"Sounds... ambitious," he said.

"It’s not ambitious," Monica corrected, tapping her clipboard like a weapon. "It’s survival. You think big city people are gonna magically wander into Downingville? No! We gotta lure them with goat yoga and pie-eating contests!"

Eddie considered the logistics of pie-eating contests inside a coworking space and wisely decided not to speak.

"I’ll email you the plan," Monica said, spinning on her heel and nearly taking out a PAYGO user with her tote bag.

Eddie sighed, finally free.

Riley and Maya wandered back in a few minutes later, carrying the smells of grass and early spring.

Eddie looked at them, deadpan.

"Congratulations," he said. "You’re now the official Work2gether pie-eating team."

Maya and Riley exchanged glances.

"Better than sparkly kombucha festivals," Riley muttered.

"Debatable," Eddie said, raising his coffee in salute.

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Next Time on The Third Place…

Debates spark. Tempers flare. The beer taps flow. And somewhere in the chaos — a bathroom incident no one wants to claim...

Episode 6: Bouts, Beers, and Bathrooms. Coming soon.

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Enjoying the ride? Come see what coworking is really like — kombucha, chaos, and all. Join Work2gether or schedule a tour today.

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The Third Place is a completely fictional story about a completely real kind of place. The characters are made up. But their situations? A little too familiar. The town is fake. But also… not really.

The passive-aggressive fridge notes, the mysterious smell near the bathrooms, the guy who never stops talking, the lady without her headphones, and the printer issues? Oh, they’re very real. No actual people were harmed in the writing of this story, but if you recognize yourself… your ego may be.

Welcome to Work2gether Downingville Square. See you in the next episode, or better yet... in real life.

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