Back to back.
The first one is about a woman who loses her job and reinvents herself. I eat ice cream directly from the tub and pretend I’m taking notes.
The second one is about a nanny who falls for her boss. I pause it halfway through, stare at the screen, then unpause it because apparently I hate myself.
The third one is about a woman who gets a big promotion and moves to Paris and lives happily ever after in a gorgeous apartment she definitely couldn’t afford in real life.
I cry during that one.
Not during the romantic parts. Not during the breakup or the grand gesture or the airport scene.
I cry when she gets the promotion.
When her boss tells her she earned it. When everyone claps. When she packs up her desk with this look on her face like she finally proved she was worth something.
What is wrong with me?
I check my watch. 6:30 p.m.
The whole day is gone. Just... gone. Vanished into a black hole of avoidance and freezer-burned dairy products.
When you waste an entire day because making one decision feels harder than—
Nope. Not an influencer. Stop it.
I grab my phone. Call Amara.
“So, what’s the news?” she asks. “Did you arrange the interview.”
“I didn’t call or text him yet,” I reply.
“What?” Amara asks. “Why not? You had the whole day! Text him right away girl!”
I frown. “Bossytoday, are we?”
“Why are you calling me then?” She sounds more exasperated then usual. “You obviously want someone to help you over the edge.”
“True.” I open Marco’s contact again. My thumbs hover.
Then I click his name and type:
I’d liketo discuss the nanny position. When works for you?
I readit out to Amara.
“Perfect,” she says. “Send it.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
I close my eyes. Hit send.
The message sits there. Delivered. Read receipt on.
Three dots appear immediately.
Then disappear.
