Records of false hope

I've spent my life wearing a mask, always smiling, always pretending. Chasing fleeting interests, hoping they would fill the void. Ambitions, they say, are meant to keep you occupied. A distraction from the emptiness, but without them, what's left? At least if you're wasting time, you might as well do something useful. Or does that defeat the purpose? Who cares? Just do what you want.

"Audrey! Stop daydreaming and get back to work! Or don't blame me when I cut your paycheck!"

His voice jolts me out of my thoughts, pulling me back from the brink of some grand epiphany. I could have unlocked the secret of the universe just now. Maybe I was this close to becoming the next Socrates or discovering a new planet. Instead…

"Yes, boss. I'll clean all the bathrooms."

Ignorant bastard. I was in my flow state—what he calls "slacking off" is more like meditation. He wouldn't understand.

You see, cleaning isn't just about scrubbing floors and wiping mirrors. It takes skill. Precision. You have to move swiftly, target the filth with pinpoint accuracy, and maintain a posture like royalty. Yes, like a noble. Cleaning is an art.

After what felt like seven hours of repetitive motions and endless scrubbing, my shift finally ended.

"Boss, I'm done. Anything else?"

I said it in a weak voice, hoping my exhaustion might soften him. Maybe he wouldn't fire me after all. I was sure he was planning on it. Bastard.

"Nothing. Now get out of here. You smell like shit."

I coughed twice, trying to emphasize my tiredness.

"Sorry, boss. Thank you. Cough... I'll be going now."

As I dragged myself toward the door, the lingering smell of bleach and disinfectant clinging to my clothes like a second skin, I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "What an asshole."

The door closed behind me with a dull thud, and for a moment, I just stood there, breathing in the stale air of the alleyway behind the building. The scent of exhaust fumes and damp concrete was a twisted kind of relief compared to the chemical stench I'd been inhaling all day. My hands ached, my back screamed, and my mind, still clouded with those philosophical musings, was too tired to care about much of anything anymore.

But then again, that was the daily routine, wasn't it? Cleaning, scrubbing, bending over backward for some boss who wouldn't hesitate to cut me loose the second I wasn't "productive" enough for him.

Walking through the streets in this murky weather, I felt… happy. Yes, happy. They say if you tell yourself you're happy enough times, you'll believe it. But my brain is smarter than that—he sees right through my lies. I guess that's the curse of being too aware, too intelligent. You can't trick yourself into contentment when you know better.

"It looks like it's raining today," she muttered softly, though the tears streaming down her face told a different story. The exhaustion of life—the chaos, the madness—had worn her down. She gazed up at the city lights, their brightness reflecting off the giant screens that showcased beautiful, perfect people living lives that seemed far from hers.

As she wandered through the streets, she saw people walking in pairs, laughing, talking, always together. But she was alone. No friends, no family. Her whole life had been a struggle—just pushing through, surviving one day at a time.

Through her tears, she began to laugh. It was strange, but that's how she coped. She never stopped trying to fool her own mind. Even now, her tears were mingled with a desperate kind of happiness. She was alive, after all, and wasn't that a gift? No matter the pain, no matter the loneliness, she told herself she should be grateful.

That's when she saw it—a small boy, no older than five, chasing after a red ball that had rolled into the street. He was laughing, completely unaware of the truck barreling toward him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Audrey's heart leaped. Her mind screamed, This is it! You can be a hero! A rush of adrenaline flooded her system. She could run out, grab the boy, save his life, and maybe, just maybe, feel something real for once.

But her legs didn't move. Instead, she stood there, rooted to the spot, watching the scene unfold as if it were a play and she was just an audience member.

This is his fate, she told herself. It has nothing to do with me.

Just like her fate was to clean toilets, day after day, alone and unnoticed. She had resigned herself to this, hadn't she? Everything in life followed its course. Why should this be any different?

Then, in a heartbeat, the unexpected happened. The truck driver saw the boy. He swerved violently, tires screeching as the truck veered off its path—straight toward Audrey.

Her thoughts raced. Oh, I guess I deserve this. The absurdity of it all made her want to laugh. The wind that had felt so strange earlier was now whipping against her face, and in the midst of it all, time seemed to slow.

The world tilted. Metal crunched. The ground rushed up to meet her, and then... pain. Blinding, searing pain. It was everywhere, consuming her, and for a moment, she thought, So this is how it ends.

As the world darkened around her, she felt a strange sense of clarity. The wind had indeed changed, and it had blown her to this moment.