Some days, I wondered if the universe had a personal vendetta against me. Today, I was almost certain it did.
It all started at work. My boss, Linda, a woman whose anger seemed to have its own zip code, decided that morning to show the entire office my "incompetence."
"Emma! Do you even know what work ethic means?!" she screamed, her face a shade of red I didn't know humans could achieve naturally. She waved a stapler for emphasis, like it was a conductor's baton and I was the orchestra failing miserably.
"Yes," I muttered under my breath, "apparently it means being screamed at while holding a broken coffee cup."
No one laughed. No one ever did. The office had perfected that cold, pitying silence that made you feel like a toddler caught peeing in the pantry.
By noon, I was officially fired. My pride was in shreds, my stomach in knots, and my career… well, let's call it precarious. I tried to muster dignity as I packed my meager belongings into a sad little cardboard box. A cactus. A coffee mug that said "You Got This." And my emergency stash of chocolate, because priorities.
I trudged through the city streets, heels clicking against the pavement in protest. The sky was gray, like it, too, was mocking me. People passed by, immersed in their perfect lives, carrying lattes, jobs, relationships, or whatever it was that normal humans possessed. I carried disappointment.
Returning home was… well, let's just say my apartment had a flair for drama. Taped to the front door, glowing like a neon warning sign of doom, was a bright red eviction notice:
FINAL NOTICE: PAY RENT OR VACATE IMMEDIATELY
I stared at it. The walls, gray and indifferent, seemed to snicker. My apartment had officially declared war, and I was losing.
"Fantastic," I muttered, flopping against the door. My noodles from last night squished beneath me, as if the universe wanted me to feel extra miserable.
My phone buzzed. It was Noah, my best friend and occasional voice of reason. Or sarcasm. Usually sarcasm.
NOAH: "Rough day?"
ME: "You have no idea. Fired. Evicted. Considering moving in with my noodles. Do you deliver?"
NOAH: "Not the kind you need. But survive, maybe?"
I groaned, tossing my phone onto the couch. Survival sounded exhausting, but I had no choice.
I slumped onto the couch, noodles clinging to my sleeve, and stared at the ceiling like it owed me an explanation. My life had officially entered nightmare mode, and I wasn't even sure if it was the start of the nightmare or the middle.
The doorbell rang, jolting me out of my pity party. I waddled over in my fluffy socks. No one was there. Just a flyer for a local gym promising "Transform Your Life in 30 Days!" Yeah, right. Transform my life? I could barely transform my apartment into a living space without tripping over bills and eviction notices.
I dropped the flyer and sank onto the couch again. I tried to think. Think of anything that didn't involve crawling under the couch and crying quietly.
"Big changes," I muttered. "Tomorrow will be better. Maybe."
The phone buzzed again. Another text from Noah.
NOAH: "You okay?"
I typed back:
ME: "Define okay. Because if okay means broke, unemployed, and one eviction notice away from living in a cardboard box, then yes. Totally okay."
NOAH: "Hang in there. Something good will happen. Eventually."
"Eventually" felt like a million years away. I wasn't sure I had that long.
I sighed and sank further into the couch cushions, hugging my noodles like they were the last shred of hope in my life.
Somewhere, somehow, I had to turn this mess around. I had to claw my way out of failure, embarrassment, and impending homelessness. Maybe it would involve a new job. Maybe it would involve moving back in with my parents. Maybe it would involve... okay, probably not moving back in with my parents. They were still talking about that "color choice incident" from five years ago.
I closed my eyes, imagining a better version of my life. A version where my boss didn't scream, my apartment didn't threaten me with eviction, and my phone only buzzed with good news.
That life existed somewhere, I whispered. Somewhere far, far away.
The real world, however, had a knack for cruel humor.
And as I stared at the eviction notice taped to my door, I whispered a question to the universe:
"Okay… how much worse can it get?"
Little did I know, the answer was just around the corner.
*. *. *
Something terrifying, life-changing, and completely unexpected was about to arrive in my life, turning my already disastrous day into the start of something I could never imagine.