“Good morning,” I replied, glancing up briefly before turning back to my screen. Riley kept moving, his shadow briefly spilling across my desk as he passed.
I opened the first file of the day, a claims dataset riddled with anomalies that I knew would take hours to untangle. Clicking through the row of numbers, I already felt the weight of the mundane settle on me.
Nine oh seven a.m. That was it?
How was a girl supposed to work a nine-to-five job, cook three meals a day, pursue creative activities, maintain decent mental health, date, and make a dent in the pile of books she wanted to read? We needed to add another five hours to the day.
My fingers danced across the keyboard as I tried to make sense of a particularly messy column in the dataset. The glow of the screen made my eyes feel heavy, but I powered through, sipping my now-lukewarm coffee for a caffeine boost.
Just as I began to fix the formatting, a soft ding alerted me to a new email. I was prepared for another system-wide memo or a mandatory ‘fun’ team-building activity notice, but I realized itwas my personal email. The subject line from the Chicago Echo Studio read:Congratulations!
My heart jumped. A rush of warmth spilled through my chest, and I blinked, rereading the subject line to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. I clicked the email, my fingers trembling slightly.
Dear Kira,
We are thrilled to inform you that you have been selected for the Chicago Echo Studio residency! Your application stood out among hundreds of talented candidates…
I stopped reading, my eyes already welling up. My breath caught in my throat as a wave of joy surged through me. I gripped the edge of the desk, grounding myself against the bubbling urge to leap out of my chair and scream.
Instead, I glanced around. The office was as dull and indifferent as ever. Monica, my cubicle neighbor, was typing furiously, headphones on. Across the aisle, Greg was on a call, gesturing animatedly with one hand while holding his headset with the other. Nobody had noticed my moment of triumph.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, feeling my cheeks stretch into a wide, uncontrollable grin.
I did it. I actually did it.
I had to text the group chat. I had to call my mom. I needed to tell Landon. I needed to?—
My computer dinged with a notification that a video call was about to start.
I needed to get back to work.
But after? Who knew.
The wind bit at my cheeks as I pulled my scarf higher over my nose, my breath forming small clouds that quickly vanished intothe chilly night. My boots crunched over the uneven layer of salt and snow coating the sidewalk, the sound faintly rhythmic against the backdrop of the city’s noise.
The only warm thing in my hand was my phone, pressed tightly to my ear. “Mom, Dad, are you both there?”
“We’re here, Kira,” Dad replied, voice crackling faintly through the line. “What’s going on? You said it couldn’t wait.”
More likeIcouldn’t wait. I couldn’t keep the art residency news a secret any longer. Despite my mom’s complex feelings toward it, my parents needed to know.
Mom might not understand it, but this was going to be part of my life for the next year. I needed at the very least for her to respect my decisions. If she didn’t…well, I guess I would have to suck it up.
“I got into the Chicago Echo Studio art residency.”
There was silence on the line, and my stomach flipped nervously. The pause stretched just long enough for me to start second-guessing myself.
“Oh, little tree!” Dad finally said, his tone bright with excitement. “That’s incredible! Congratulations.”
Silence from Mom.
“When do you start?” Dad asked.
“On January 10,” I answered, pacing in place.
Mom finally spoke up. “And what of your job?”
“I haven’t told them yet. I’ll be putting in my two weeks soon. The residency is full time, so I can’t do both.”
