"Luc, dear? Why aren't you playing with the others?"

Ms. Harper's voice was soft, with a touch of concern.

Outside, a group of children splashed through puddles, their laughter muffled by the steady rain. But young Luc stayed inside, watching the world go by without him.

Luc turned and met her gentle gaze. He shrugged, a simple gesture that said it all.

"Just don't feel like it," he mumbled, turning back to the window.

Ms. Harper sat down beside him, the cushion dipping under her weight. Her presence was comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night. She didn’t push or pry; instead, she looked out at the rain-soaked playground.

"You know," she began, her voice taking on a playful tone, "when I was your age, I used to hate rainy days."

Despite himself, Luc felt a spark of curiosity. He glanced at Ms. Harper from the corner of his eye, silently urging her to continue.

"I thought they were gloomy, keeping me stuck inside," she continued, a wistful smile on her lips. "But then my grandmother taught me a secret."

Luc turned fully toward her, his dark eyes wide with interest. "What secret?"

Ms. Harper leaned in as if sharing something important. "She showed me how to listen to the rain. Really listen. Every drop has its own story, if you’re patient enough to hear it."

Young Luc pressed his ear to the cool glass, trying to hear the stories in the raindrops.

For a moment, the loneliness that had been with him seemed to fade away.

...

The sound of sneakers hitting the track echoed in Luc's ears as he rounded the final turn.

Sweat dripped down his brow, and his breathing was steady. He wasn’t at the front, but he wasn’t at the back either. Just... steady.

Coach Simmons blew the whistle. "Alright, that's it! Hit the showers!"

Luc slowed down to a jog, then a walk, letting his heart rate settle. As he headed to the locker room, Mark came up beside him, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"Hey, Luc! A few of us are going to Brewster's after this. You in?"

Luc thought for a moment. He didn’t have any other plans, and hanging out sounded good. "Sure, why not?"

The café was buzzing with students, the smell of coffee filling the air. Luc slid into a worn leather booth between Mark and Jane.

"So," Jane started, casually stirring her latte, "what are you guys thinking about for college?"

Mark leaned in, eyes bright with excitement. "I'm aiming for MIT. I want to dive into tech and make a real difference."

Jane nodded with a smile. "Nice. I’m leaning towards journalism. There’s so much going on in the world, and someone’s got to cover it."

Their enthusiasm was clear, and as they turned their attention to Luc, he hesitated.

"I’m not really sure yet," he said, tracing a finger through the condensation on his glass. "Maybe something that feels right when the time comes."

Mark raised an eyebrow, curious. "No idea at all?"

Luc shrugged, giving a small, noncommittal smile. "Not yet. I guess I’ll figure it out."

There was a brief pause, just long enough to notice, before Jane offered a reassuring smile. "You’ve got time. No rush."

The conversation shifted to lighter topics – the upcoming dance, the latest Netflix series, and the mystery of the cafeteria meat. Luc joined in, laughing and commenting when needed.

As the afternoon went on, Luc found himself staring out the window.

Outside, people moved with purpose and direction. He wondered what it would be like to have that same drive and certainty.

The bell above the door jingled, and a group of younger kids burst in, their laughter loud and carefree.

For a moment, Luc was reminded of that rainy day in Ms. Harper’s class, listening to the rain.

He blinked, the memory quickly fading. Mark was talking about a new superhero movie, and Jane was playfully rolling her eyes. Luc smiled, trying to focus on the moment. This was fine, he told himself. This was enough.

Wasn’t it?

…

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, brightening the rows of cubicles.

Luc typed away at his keyboard, focused on finishing a client presentation.

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He leaned back, rubbed his eyes, and checked the clock. 12:30 PM. Lunchtime.

“Hey, Luc!” Sarah from accounting called as she walked by. “We’re heading to that new sushi place. Want to come along?”

Luc smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, but I brought lunch today. Maybe next time?”

Sarah nodded and continued on. Luc watched her go, feeling a mix of emotions. Not regret, not relief—just something.

He grabbed his brown paper bag and notebook and headed for the elevator. The doors opened with a soft ding, and he caught his reflection in the polished metal.

At twenty, he looked every bit the young professional—neatly pressed shirt, tie slightly askew, hair styled to look effortlessly tousled. The image of stability and success.

Outside, the September sun warmed his face as he sat on his usual bench. The street was busy—people in suits rushing to meetings, tourists staring at skyscrapers, food carts selling their goods.

Luc watched pigeons pecking at a discarded hot dog bun. He wondered if they ever paused to think about their simple lives. Did they ever look up and wonder if there was more?

He pulled out his notebook and flipped through pages of scattered thoughts. After a moment, he wrote:

“Another day, another dollar. But is there something more to it all?”

He looked at the words, feeling a faint weight. His life seemed fine—good job, nice apartment, friends. Yet, something felt a bit off, like an unanswered question lingering in the background.

A shadow fell across the page. Luc looked up to see an old man standing in front of him, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Deep thoughts on a nice day,” the man said, nodding at the notebook.

Luc quickly closed it and forced a smile. “Just brainstorming for work.”

The old man chuckled, “Work’s important, sure. But what do you do when you’re not working?”

Luc was caught off guard. He thought about his routine—Netflix, drinks with friends, endless scrolling. Was that really living?

The old man seemed to read his mind. “Life’s too short for maybes and someday. Find what makes you happy and go for it.”

Before Luc could reply, the man disappeared into the crowd. Luc blinked, wondering if the encounter was real.

He looked at his notebook and then at the busy street.

For a brief moment, he felt a hint of... something.

The alarm on his phone rang, ending his lunch break. Luc gathered his things and joined the crowd heading back to work.

As he walked, he thought about the old man’s words, wondering what it would take to find what truly made him happy.

…

Luc's feet pounded on the treadmill, his sweat mixing with the rhythm of his music.

As he pushed through the last quarter mile, the gym's usual noise faded into the background.

When the treadmill slowed, Luc grabbed his towel and wiped his face.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror—average, just like everything else in his life.

Moving to the weight section, he sat on a bench and reached for the dumbbells. A familiar voice broke through his music.

"Luc! How's it going?"

Luc looked up to see Emma, her energy evident as she approached. He pulled out an earbud and gave a small smile.

"Hey, Emma. Just the usual."

She sat down next to him, her enthusiasm a contrast to his routine. "Come on, you need more fire! You’re not going to get six-pack with that attitude!"

Luc chuckled lightly. "Not aiming for that"

Emma’s smile flickered with what seemed like concern before brightening again. "Well, how about trying something new? I’ve got some kickboxing moves to show you."

"Sure, why not?"

On the mats, Emma demonstrated punches and kicks. Luc struggled at first but soon lost himself in the movements.

For a few moments, he focused solely on the workout, forgetting about work and his sense of monotony.

"Not bad!" Emma said, giving him a friendly jab. "You’ve got some skills."

Luc grinned, feeling a genuine sense of enjoyment. "Thanks to you."

They cooled down, talking about workouts and protein shakes. As they gathered their things, Emma’s tone became serious.

"Hey, Luc. If you ever need to talk, I’m here."

Luc was surprised but nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Emma."

She smiled again. "Anytime. See you next week!"

Watching her leave, Luc felt a small warmth inside.

He picked up his gym bag and headed out. The setting sun painted the sky orange and pink, signaling the end of another day.

…

Luc’s key turned in the lock, and the door clicked open. He stepped into his apartment, greeted by the quiet. The day’s conversations and feelings lingered in his mind.

He moved through his routine—shoes off, jacket hung, bag dropped—then wandered into the kitchen. With the fridge light casting a cool glow, he pulled out some ingredients without much thought.

As he chopped vegetables, the steady rhythm of the knife against the board gave his mind something to focus on.

The old man’s words from lunch came back to him: “Life’s too short for maybes and somedays.” Luc paused, the knife hovering. Was he living, or just existing?

The sizzle of oil brought him back. He added the vegetables to the pan, their colors standing out against the metal. A pinch of salt, a dash of pepper—simple.

With his plate ready, Luc sat by the window. The city spread out before him, lights flickering in the distance. He took a bite, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

How many others were out there, just going through the motions and wondering if there was more to life?

Luc’s gaze fell on the book on his side table—The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. He set his plate aside and picked it up, noting its worn pages. He flipped to a highlighted passage:

The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy

He leaned back, letting the words sink in. Was it enough to find meaning in the struggle? To accept the absurdity of life and find joy in the process, even without a clear goal?

Luc turned back to the window, his reflection faint against the city lights.

He looked up at the few stars visible through the city's glow. The vast universe felt both overwhelming and awe-inspiring, making his own existence seem both small and remarkable.

A yawn crept up on him, reminding Luc of the late hour. He closed the book, his fingers lingering on its cover.

As he got ready for bed, the questions that had lingered all day kept swirling in his mind

Lying in the darkness, Luc listened to the faint sounds of the city - a distant siren, the rumble of a late-night bus, the whisper of wind through the alley.

Each noise a reminder of the countless lives unfolding around him, each with their own struggles, joys, and questions.

As sleep began to claim him, Luc wondered what tomorrow would bring. Another day of routine, or perhaps...

His thoughts drifted, incomplete, into the realm of dreams.