**Seeing Opportunities**
The morning began with the familiar blare of the alarm at half past seven. Emily stretched, feeling the cool air against her skin, then awkwardly fumbled for her slippers under the bed. Daylight streamed through the window, but it didnt stir her imaginationit merely marked the start of another ordinary day. She walked past the armchair with its neatly folded throw blanket and mechanically switched on the electric kettle, moving through the motions as if someone else were guiding her.
While the kettle boiled, she unlocked her phone. Her feed flashed with familiar faces, other peoples achievements, and event invitations that didnt feel meant for her. The cold kitchen table under her palm reminded her the heating had been turned offtypical for late spring when the sun hadnt yet warmed the walls properly. The usual porridge she ate with the same ceramic spoon every morning cooled faster than usual. Tasteless. Uninspiring.
The past month had blurred into sameness. A morning shower without urgency. Remote work: calls with colleagues, brief emails to her manager, occasional coffee breaks by the balcony. Outside, the laughter of children playing carried on the breezeso free and bright it felt like another world. Evenings sometimes brought a walk around the block or a trip to the nearby Tesco. All of it was part of a cycle that had lost its colour.
Lately, the stagnation had become almost tangible. She wasnt irritated by others or even her own exhaustionjust numb to the unchanging rhythm of her days. She remembered past attempts to start something new: online courses abandoned after two weeks, gym routines dropped after three sessions. Everything felt either too difficult or not for her. Sometimes, a quiet thought crept in: *What if its always like this?*
That morning, Emily caught herself staring too long out the window. A middle-aged man was helping his son ride a scooter in the courtyard. The boys laughter was infectious; the fathers joy so genuine that something inside Emily twitched. She looked away. Moments like these always felt borrowedlike postcards from someone elses life.
Work passed as usual: reports, pointless calls. After lunch, she walked to the post office to send tax documents. The pavement radiated warmth, the air shimmering above it. Elderly women chatted on benches, teenagers scrolled their phones, and young mothers pushed prams.
On her way back, a woman carrying a bouquet of lavender smiled at herbright and warm, as if theyd known each other for years. Emily smiled back instinctively. The exchange left a faint echo of warmth inside her, unexpected but pleasant.
That evening, a message popped up among work notifications: *»Em! Theres a collage workshop this Saturday near yoursfancy it? Coffees on me.»* It was from Lucy, an old uni friend they rarely saw. Normally, Emily would dismiss itwhy bother? But this time, her finger hovered.
Excuses tumbled through her mind: *»Ill stick out,» «Im rubbish at crafts,» «Theyll all know each other.»* Yet a tiny spark of curiosity flickered. The workshop was freeshe could always leave early.
Later, she stepped onto the balcony. The air smelled of cut grass, music drifting from somewhere nearby. Lights flickered in windows opposite: families at dinner, someone taking out the bins. The city was alive after a long winter, voices spilling into the night.
Emily lingered, wondering when shed stopped saying *yes* to things. Had life changed, or had she? The strangers smile and Lucys message felt like quiet nudges.
The next day, work dragged until evening. Even her managers voice through the laptop speakers sounded tinny and annoyed. Needing air, she wandered aimlesslyuntil she bumped into Tom, an old coursemate, at the crossing.
«Em! You live round here?» he said, surprised. They chatted on the pavement. Tom was buzzing about a new volunteer projectfree community lectures in local parks. «You used to write, yeah? We need someone for promo stuff. Come along tomorrowwere brainstorming by the sixth block.»
Emily laughed nervously. «I havent written properly in ages.»
Tom shrugged. «Perfect time to start again.»
At home, she paced. The lavender woman, Lucys invite, now Tomwere these coincidences or hints? Before overthinking, she texted Lucy: *»Count me in!»* Her heart raced as she hit send.
That night, anticipation replaced her usual restlessness. She imagined the workshop: magazines strewn across a table, strangers cutting and pasting. Toms meeting outdoors, voices bouncing between buildings.
Morning came bright and warm. Emily drafted a short piece about the volunteer project and sent it to Tom. His reply was instant: *»Spot on! Exactly the tone we need.»* It felt good to be useful.
At the workshop, Lucy introduced her as «the creative one»embarrassing yet warming. Emilys hands shook as she snipped magazine pages, but soon laughter filled the room. Her collagea sunny park scene, the phrase *»Dare to Change!»*, smiling faceswas wonky but hers.
«Feels like summer!» another attendee remarked. Lucy snapped photos for their group. They planned another sessionmaking postcards for neighbours. «Coming?» Lucy asked.
«Definitely,» Emily said, meaning it.
That evening, tea in hand, she scribbled in her notebook: *»Draft second volunteer update,» «Try a sunset collage,» «Ask Lucy for a walk.»* Rain pattered outside, mixing with distant laughter and wet pavement.
She realised how quickly life shifts when you start seeing doors instead of walls. Gratitude swelledfor Lucys push, Toms trust, her own nerve to step forward.
One note stood out: *»Dont wait for inspirationcreate it.»* That became her compass.
June stretched ahead, packed with volunteer meetings and workshops. Emily planned articles, even enrolled in a design course. She felt part of something biggerher days now dotted with new voices, ideas, the simple joy of contributing.
As night fell, she opened the window wide. A breeze fluttered the curtains; music hummed from a flat nearby. Tomorrow didnt feel dauntingjust full of possibilities.
Every small signa chance encounter, an invitewasnt just luck anymore. It was a chance to step forward. And *that* was the lesson shed needed all along.
