Artificial overhead lights flickered in the office. The pounding in Evie’s head intensified. The dry, recycled air felt harsh in her nose, and she knew that if she blew her nose, a bit of dried blood would probably come out. She was pissed off and stressed out. Worse, she was running out of time.
Evie’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall every few seconds. This report should have been done last week. She could have done it last week. She just…didn’t. And now she was running right up against the deadline, and even as she frantically typed out the report due at 5:00pm, she found that she still didn’t care.
Marketing for giant food manufacturer had never been her dream job. It was just a “pay the bills job”. It was her “first job out of college” job. Except it had been five years since her college days, and she was still in the same job at the same company, with a few promotions to tide her over.
Now here she was, trying to make herself to give a flying fuck about data analysis from the latest low-calorie bread campaign (of course, she would argue that low-calorie bread wasn’t really bread at all, just sadness pretending to be bread). To trick herself into productivity, Evie was forcing her body into fight or flight mode via severe procrastination. It worked, mostly. She felt the anxiety – the adrenaline and cortisol flooding her system to give her the energy to fight off a predator. Even if her predator was just her boss’s wrath.
With five minutes left, Evie typed up the last paragraph and sent the report to her boss. She didn’t proofread or format or any of that shit. It was fine. It was good enough. She didn’t really care either way.
Evie was done. She turned off her computer and switched from her office heals to her comfy commuting sneakers. Shrugging on her coat, she waved to Max and Tina, her cubicle neighbors. They had all sat next to each other for three years now, and honestly, Evie knew nothing about them. Well, she knew that Tina had two kids, and that Max got in trouble last year for streaming movies on his computer. But that was about it.
Frigid wind greeted Evie as she stepped out of the office and into the winter cold. She drew her coat tight around her waist and made a beeline for the metro. It was already dark outside, even though it was barely 5:00pm. All around her, crowds of people bustled by, huddled in their coats, eyes on the ground. Most had headphones in as well, playing music or podcasts that would let them keep out the world. Evie was one of them. She put on her over-the-ear headphones and turned on her lasted audiobook, about a book shop owner who solves mysteries in her small town. It was rote, predictable, and scratched some sort of comfort nerve in her brain.
The metro was crowded. Well, it was always crowded in Washington, D.C. rush hour. Especially at Metro Center, where all the office workers transferred to their routes home. Evie pushed her way onto the train. It was completely packed. Evie had to stand uncomfortably close to strangers. Everyone was packed in together, desperately not making eye contact, trying to get lost in their own little worlds.
After a couple of stops, Evie pushed her way off the train again. She took the escalator leading out into her neighborhood. A few homeless men sat near the entrance to the metro station. One started to talk to her, but she just walked past with her headphones on, as if they weren’t even there. It was sad. She felt guilty about it. But she still didn’t stop.
She walked another block, staring into the restaurants with their bright, cozy glow. Many of them had string lights hung up for the holidays. Inside, she could see couples and families sitting down to early dinners, smiling and laughing together. Evie walked on.
At the end of the block, a familiar shopfront came into view. Rows of display cases lined the windows, mostly empty this time of day. But there were still a few shining pastries and crusty sourdough loaves. Gold lettering stretched across the window, spelling out Bread First Bakery. For the first time all day, Evie’s smile felt real.
The chime above the door rang softly as Evie entered the bakery. A voice called out from the back. “Be with you in a sec!” Evie bent down to look at the scant selection left for the end of the day. A few deep golden croissants, glazed with an egg wash; two palmier; a lone raisin walnut loaf; and a lemon tart topped with thick merengue.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer!” A tall, thin woman stepped behind the counter. Her blond hair was streaked with gray, and smile lines were a permanent fixture around her warm brown eyes.
“Hey Cindy. How’s business today?”
Cindy flapped her hand dismissively. “Oh, you know. People buy things. Some people are nice. Some people are assholes.”
Evie smiled again, and found herself relieved to truly smile, not the fake office grins she gave to people who didn’t really care about her. “Any good stories today?”
“Oh no, it was fine,” replied Cindy. “It’s a weekday. We only see chaos and bloodshed on Sunday mornings.”
Both women laughed as Evie turned her attention back to the display. “Could I get the last lemon tart?”
“Absolutely!” Cindy started boxing up the tart. “And how are you? How was your day?”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Evie shrugged. “It was stressful.” She sighed. “I just…I just…” Horrified, Evie realized she was starting to tear up. She blinked, trying to push the tears back into her skull or wherever tears came from, but it didn’t work.
“Oh, Evie.” Cindy stepped around the counter and pulled Evie into a hug, her arms wrapped tight around Evie’s back. It felt so nice. So nice for someone to care. Evie gasped for air, fighting back the sob making its way up her throat.
Cindy pulled away and looked into Evie’s face. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment, hmm?”
Evie shook her head. “You have to man the counter. What if someone comes in?”
“Then I can go back to the counter for a moment. See? Easy,” said Cindy. The older woman guided Evie to a table opposite the counter, pulling the chair out so Evie could sit with her back to the storefront. So no one would see her cry. The simple gesture made her want to cry again. Cindy sat down and grasped her hands. “Now, what’s going on?”
It all came rushing out of her between sniffles and wiping away tears. “It’s just…I hate my job. All I do is make money for people I don’t care about, who create food that sucks, by the way. Don’t buy that new low-calorie bread, it’s shit. And no one really cares about me. And I don’t feel any sense of joy or fulfilment or purpose in my life. And all I’ve been able to think today is, ‘this can’t be all there is for me. This can’t be right.’ I’m just so lonely and angry. But I’m not just angry at my job or my company or whatever. I’m angry at myself, which is awful, but it’s true. I’m angry that I’ve been numb for so long that I stopped caring about what my life could be.”
Cindy listened and nodded a long through her rant. “I’m sorry, Evie. Really. It’s no easy thing, to realize you’re unhappy. We…bury it. I think. To protect ourselves. But you know, now. Right? You know, and you can do something about it.”
Evie sighed. “You’re right.” She wiped snot away with a napkin. “I need to change. I can’t keep doing this. But I don’t know what I want to do.”
“What do you like to do?” Cindy asked.
Evie thought about it. “I like reading, and going for long walks, and swimming, and video games, and baking cookies.” She laughed. “Fuck, that’s such a short list of things I like.”
Cindy laughed. “Well, it’s a start.” She stood up and went to the counter, pulling a flyer from the wall. She handed it to Evie. “On Saturday nights, we host pastry arts programs. How to make different types of dough, the chemistry of sugar, how to make a macaron without cracking the shell, that sort of thing. Why don’t you come this weekend? We’re going through how to make éclairs without overworking the dough.” She shook her head. “Classic pitfall. Half the so-called bakeries and patisseries in D.C. do it.”
Evie looked at the shining pastries on the flyer, and felt the knot inside her loosen. “How much is it to attend?”
Cindy shook her head. “For you? First class is on the house. If you like it, we’ll talk about program fees.” She leaned in. “Just don’t tell the other attendees. It’s our little secret, okay?”
Evie nodded slowly. “Thank you, Cindy. This is…This is really kind of you.”
The other woman smiled and patted Evie’s hands. “The world needs a little more kindness, I think.” She winked conspiratorially. “And you’re one of my best customers. We’ve got to keep you happy.”
Evie snorted. “I knew it.”
The chime over the door ringed as a new customer walked through the door. Cindy straightened, patting Evie on the back. “You sit here as long as you want.”
The flyer in her hands felt right. Evie carefully folded it and tucked it in her back. She opened the box with her lemon merengue tart, looking at the artfully swirled baked merengue sitting perfectly on top. With a careful hand, Evie sliced into the tart, watching as the bright yellow curd came into view atop a flaky, buttery crust. It was beautiful. She used her fork to cut away a healthy bite. It was delicious. Perfect balanced between the sugary, light merengue and the tart, dense lemon curd. Evie savored the bite, letting the sugar work its dopamine magic in her brain. It was comforting. Normally, she ate on her couch, watching TV, and she hardly even tasted the food. Here, sitting down in the shop, savoring each bite…it felt right.
Yes, she thought. She would go to the pastry classes. That felt right.
With a lighter heart, Evie packed up the rest of the tart to eat at home. She waved goodbye to Cindy and bundled up in her coat once more. Stepping out into the cold night air, Evie turned to walk home. And even though it was still cold, and dark, and she still had a job she hated, Evie felt better. Things were going to get better. Evie would make them better. She was ready for change. She was ready to make a life of joy. Of purpose. She didn’t know what it would look like, exactly, but she wouldn’t settle anymore.
Evie stepped onto the crosswalk near her apartment. She didn’t see the car coming. A horn blared. Headlights filled her vision, blinding her.
There was pain. So much pain. People shouting, screaming. Blinding light, then darkness. Finally, there was nothing left at all.
Evie was weightless, surrounded by a sea of stars. It wasn’t cold, or hot, or uncomfortable. It was…soft, somehow. Of course, that wasn’t the right word. But she couldn’t think of a word in the English language that could describe how she felt at that moment. Soft. Malleable, maybe.
In her vision, a series of symbols appeared in front of her, glowing bright. They flipped and rearranged and reformed into words she could understand.
You have reached the After. You are eligible for two paths.
----------------------------------------
Ding! You are eligible for: Atomic Exploration.
Prerequisite: none.
You have lived your life. Now, your atoms will return to the universe. You will not remain as you are, but you will live on in the flowers, the stars, the planets, and so many other things. There will be peace, and the knowledge that your body will go on to nourish life in a thousand different ways.
----------------------------------------
Ding! You are eligible for: Transfer.
Prerequisite: Your life ended during both a metaphorical and physical crossroads.
New paths appear. New possibilities arise. What life would you lead, given a second chance? You will be transferred to a new world occupied by your current species or closest equivalent, at a youthful yet independent age. You may encounter minor physiological adjustments to enable System assistance.
----------------------------------------
Would you like to select [Atomic Exploration] or [Transfer]?
Oh, she thought. Oh.
That could be…interesting.
She mentally selected [Transfer].
Once more, her world went dark.