Reality Check(ed)

Maggie stared out the kitchen window, her brow knitted in quiet contemplation as she waited for her coffee to finish brewing. The sun poured through the window, warm and radiant, yet something felt off. It had rained throughout the night—she recalled the rhythmic pitter-patter against her bedroom window, and the wind wailing through the trees. The forecast had called for more storms well into late afternoon. However, outside, the world looked untouched, as if the night’s downpour had never happened.

She recalled having drinks with her best friends from college last night at the new upscale lounge downtown. Laurie had been eager to check out the exclusive rooftop bar, but the rain had forced them to stay inside. Instead, they gathered in one of the lounge’s sleek, dimly lit sections, sipping mojitos and catching up.

Laurie had always dreamed of becoming a corporate attorney, and after years of relentless studying and grueling internships, she had finally landed a position at one of Pittsburgh’s top law firms earlier this year. It was all she had ever wanted, and from the way she spoke about it, the long hours and high stakes didn’t faze her in the slightest.

Sammie and Chloe also seemed to have settled comfortably into their dream careers. Sammie, with her sharp wit and boundless creativity, was making a name for herself in marketing, crafting campaigns for major brands. Chloe, whom she had known since third grade and always the most compassionate of the group, had pursued a career in healthcare, working as a pediatric nurse—the job she had dreamed of since childhood.

As Maggie sat there, she couldn't help but wonder if she was the only one still searching for a sense of purpose—trapped in a routine she couldn’t escape.

Suddenly, the coffee pot beeped—a sharp, cheerful sound, as if proudly announcing the completion of its task. The abrupt noise jolted Maggie from her thoughts, pulling her away from the window. With a sigh, she grabbed the pot and poured the steaming coffee into her oversized “Pitt” mug. She and her friends had bought matching mugs from the university shop, a sentimental keepsake to mark their transition from students to University of Pittsburgh alumni. Back then, they had imagined themselves stepping into bright, promising careers, proudly flaunting their school spirit in their new offices.

But as Maggie wrapped her fingers around the familiar ceramic, she couldn’t ignore the nagging truth—her future hadn’t turned out the way she once envisioned.

Maggie took a sip of her coffee and immediately winced at the bitterness, the sharp taste jolting her from her distracted thoughts. She’d forgotten to add the creamer.

Heading toward the refrigerator, a realization settled over her—it was Sunday, grocery day. With a resigned sigh, she set down her mug, shuffled to her bedroom to change, then grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door.

The moment she stepped outside, the air was warm and rich with the scent of sun-soaked earth and blooming wildflowers. No trace of petrichor, no lingering dampness on the pavement. It was as if the storm she so vividly remembered had never happened at all.

Maggie swallowed, her throat dry and tight. Something was off. She could feel it in her bones—an uncanny sense that the world had shifted on its axis while she slept.

She glanced across the street and noticed her neighbors gathered on their lawns, laughing and chatting as if it were a holiday. Odd, she thought.

But what unsettled her most was Mr. Burns. The older man was usually a storm cloud of irritation, no matter the day. He’d spent his life working at the same furniture store his great-great-grandfather had built, forever grumbling about long hours and slow employees. Just yesterday, after another exhausting Saturday shift, his voice had carried across the street—complaining about sluggish junior workers while his wife, Mrs. Burns, stood by the door, nodding in passive agreement, with an umbrella in hand as he stomped into the house.

But today? He was all smiles, chatting with the Morgans and the Wilsons, laughing as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. Just then, Mr. Burns looked over, spotted her, and waved. “Good morning, Maggie!”

"Good morning, Mr. Burns," Maggie said, her voice tinged with bewilderment.

He grinned and called out, “When you get a chance this week, stop by the store. I’ll give you a discount on any furniture you want. We just received an investment, and things are really looking up!”

“Oh, wow, that’s wonderful,” Maggie replied, trying to mask the confusion on her face. Mr. Burns had never spoken to her before—a grunt or a quick nod was all she ever got. It was always Mrs. Burns who was the social one.

Maggie’s skin prickled. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she climbed into her car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned pale. Something definitely isn’t right, she thought.

First, the weather seemed odd, and now her neighbor was acting like an entirely different person. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I didn’t sleep well, and the mojitos from last night aren’t sitting well with me. But no matter how she tried to rationalize it, every instinct screamed that something was undeniably wrong.

The drive to the grocery store was oddly surreal. Streets that normally peppered with Sunday morning traffic were unsettlingly quiet. The few cars she passed moved at an unhurried pace, their drivers smiling and waving as if caught up in some unspoken festivity. Pedestrians strolled along the sidewalks with a light-hearted spring in their step, while dogs pranced happily alongside their humans, tails wagging as if the entire world was enveloped in an unfamiliar sense of joy.

As she pulled into the parking lot of Greenfield's Market, her unease deepened. The vast stretch of asphalt, usually packed with cars on a Sunday morning, was nearly empty. Only a handful of vehicles sat scattered across the grocery store lot, gleaming under the strangely intense sunlight like polished gems.

She cautiously eased into a parking space near the entrance and cut the engine. For a moment, she just sat there, fingers still resting on the steering wheel as she scanned her surroundings, trying to steady her thoughts. “What is going on?” she whispered to herself.

Finally, after calming herself, she grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. The door closed shut behind her; the sound echoing across the parking lot, unnervingly loud against the surrounding stillness.

As she approached the store, the automatic doors slid open with an almost too-cheerful whoosh, releasing a wave of cool, conditioned air. The familiar fluorescent glow spilled onto the pavement, blinding her momentarily, forcing her to blink rapidly to adjust her eyes.

Her gaze landed on the store employees gathered at the entrance, their faces lit with excitement as they chatted and laughed. They held a large banner that read, “Welcome to Greenfield’s Market! Happy Grand Reopening! A New Beginning Awaits!”

A grand reopening? This surprised Maggie. She had been at this store just a few days ago, and there had been no sign of renovations—no announcements, no changes, nothing to suggest something like this was happening.

She forced a smile at the employees as she walked past, gripping her purse handle tightly. Grabbing a cart, she headed toward the produce section, trying once again to shake off the uneasiness rising in her chest.

Maggie quickly grabbed her usual grocery items and a few snacks, hurrying toward the register. Despite the small number of customers, the store hummed with an unusual liveliness. As she made her way through the aisles, everything seemed different.

The store fully stocked the shelves with fresh produce, neatly arranged in vibrant displays. Maggie couldn't believe what was happening. This wasn't just a grand reopening - it felt like an entirely new store. Yet, everything looked exactly as it always had. As she fumbled with her wallet, she heard someone call her name.

“Maggie! So nice to see you today! How are you?”

It was Jen from her yoga class. Maggie barely managed a smile as she turned to face her.

“I’m good, just doing a little shopping,” she replied, her voice flat, with a forced smile.

“Oh, I totally get it!” Jen chuckled. “I’m getting ready for the week, too. Can’t wait! You won’t believe it, but I got a promotion to regional manager last Thursday! Can you believe it? I’m doing what I always wanted!”

Maggie froze. "Wait, what? I thought you said you hated your job. You even told me you were looking for something else, even if they offered you a promotion."

Jen placed a hand on Maggie’s shoulder, her face glowing with excitement. “Not anymore! It’s my dream job now, Maggie. Isn’t it amazing? It feels like a new beginning.”

Maggie felt a wave of nausea rise in her stomach. Her head spun and her heart began to race. This didn’t feel right. How could everything change so suddenly? The world felt like it was wrapped in some strange, happy haze. How was everyone so cheerful?

They continued sharing a little small talk and hugged goodbye just as the cashier finished ringing up Maggie’s items, but Maggie’s mind was miles away. As if on autopilot, she barely noticed the total as she grabbed her bags and hurried out.

Slipping into her car, she leaned back in the seat, feeling disoriented. What was going on? "Ugh, I need caffeine," she muttered, hoping the words would ground her. She headed to the local café, desperate for a mocha to shake the eerie feeling that had taken over her, hoping it would wake her up—both literally and figuratively.

As Maggie stepped into the café, she was taken aback by the atmosphere. It wasn’t the usual hectic, impatient crowd, with long lines and customers in a rush. Instead, the café was filled with a relaxed energy—people were chatting casually, laughing, and smiling as they sipped their drinks.

Then, out of nowhere, one of her coworkers from the hotel, Tim, walked in, his face lit up with a big grin. Their eyes met, and he waved enthusiastically as he made his way toward her, skillfully weaving through customers who were leaving.

“Maggie! How are you?” Tim called out, his voice full of excitement.

“I’m hanging in there,” Maggie replied, still trying to make sense of the strange energy in the air as he joined the line behind her. Tim worked as a bartender at the hotel and was also an aspiring musician, playing local gigs with his band.

“Maggie, you won’t believe it!” Tim’s eyes were sparkling as he leaned in closer. “I just signed a huge deal!”

“What? No way! Congratulations, Tim!” Maggie exclaimed, her surprise matching the excitement in his voice.

Tim couldn’t contain his joy. “Yeah! My band got signed to a record label yesterday! It’s my dream, and it’s happening! Ahhh!”

“Ahhh!” Maggie shouted along with him, her mind still on guard.

As Maggie picked up her mocha and exchanged goodbyes with Tim, she slowly made her way to the café door, still trying to process what she’d just heard. She was genuinely happy for him, but it felt like everyone’s life was suddenly falling perfectly into place—everyone except hers.

She stepped outside into the warm air, the café's artificial ambiance fading behind her. As her foot hit the pavement and the fresh air brushed her face, a shiver ran through her—a silent reminder that something was wrong.

The streets remained unnervingly serene. Everywhere she looked, people seemed to be exactly where they were meant to be. As she drove home, the familiar scene mirrored the one she had seen on her way to the store. She passed a man sitting on a bench, sketching in a notebook, his face radiating quiet contentment. A woman jogged by, her expression one of pure determination, as if every step brought her closer to her passion. Even the baristas at the café earlier seemed to move in perfect harmony, clearly in their element.

It was as if the world had shifted into some perfect version of itself, where everyone had found their calling. Maggie’s stomach tightened as she pulled into her driveway, the weight of the day settling in. The laughter, the smiles, the overwhelming sense of satisfaction—it all felt surreal, and too perfect.

She quickly collected her groceries and rushed into her apartment, her haven from the unsettling aura of perfection that seemed to envelop everyone around her.

How could everyone else be so content, so perfectly aligned with their passions, while she felt like she was just... existing? The world outside her window seemed too vibrant, too flawless. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like a carefully crafted façade—one that taunted her with its perfection, mocking her unfulfilled aspirations.

After putting away the groceries, she glanced out the window and noticed the sky had darkened. Was it that late already? The day had passed in a blur. With a sigh, she turned her attention to getting her uniform ready for work.

She mentally ran through her usual Monday routine. Oh, that’s right, she reminded herself. I need to meet with Mr. Carollson about booking the VIP hall for this week’s seminar, since the large banquet hall is undergoing emergency renovations.

Are you happy, Maggie? The thought surfaced unexpectedly. Is this really what you want? Two years from now? Five? Ten? The questions lingered, unsettling and impossible to ignore.

“No, I’m not happy,” she whispered at first, then repeated louder, “I’m not happy!”

“I’m a 29-year-old front office supervisor, stuck in a monotonous routine,” she cried out, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice trembled with frustration as she continued, her emotions pouring out unchecked. “This isn’t what I wanted! This isn’t the life I dreamed of!”

She dropped to the floor, fists tightly clenched, tears streaming down her face, her voice breaking with every breath. “My dreams… my life… everyone around me is thriving, doing what they love. And I’m… I’m just stuck.”

The realization crushed her, the contrast between her stagnant reality and the world’s perfect harmony pressing in like an unbearable weight.

Seeing her friends last night had left her feeling small, inadequate. They had all progressed into their ideal careers. And when the conversation had focused on her, she attempted to joke and dismiss it with a nonchalant "Oh, I just changed direction," but the truth was harder to admit—even to herself.

Somewhere along the way, ambition had quietly given way to stability. The drive she once had—the fire that pushed her forward—had dimmed, replaced by routine and practicality. And now, as she neared 30, she woke each morning with a dull, persistent ache of regret, haunted by the question: Why Had I just simply settled for this life?

She had long since convinced herself that she was fine, that comfort and security were enough. But were they? Seeing her friends thrive, their eyes alight with passion for the things they loved, had stirred something restless inside her.

Do you keep going like this, waking up every day to the same boring routine, letting time slip through your fingers? Or do you finally take a stand, make a change, and pursue the life and career you truly want?

The thought gave her chills. Change was terrifying—but an unfulfilled life was worse. If she didn’t decide now, would she still be here years from now, trapped in the same cycle, suffocating under the weight of what-ifs?

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. The choice was hers. And for the first time in a long time, she was ready to take the steps necessary to make the change.

Maggie felt the weight of the day finally lift, the uneasiness that had clung to her dissipating. As she climbed into bed, a sense of determination settled over her. She was ready—ready to embrace change, to carve out a future she truly wanted.

Soon after she drifted to sleep, a loud, thunderous boom jolted her awake. Her eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as she tried to gather her bearings. Rain pounded against the window, the storm outside mirroring the confusion swirling inside her.

Half-asleep, she reached for her phone. The screen lit up—5:34 AM. Sunday.

Squinting, she frowned. Wait… Sunday? Did I read that right?

She gasped, sitting up quickly, her heart racing. That couldn’t be right. She had just lived through an entire day. She had gone shopping, talked to Jen, seen Tim, struggled with her emotions… how could it possibly be Sunday morning, again?

Scrambling for answers, she lunged for the TV remote and turned it on. The menu flashed across the screen: Sunday, 5:35 AM.

Her pulse roared in her ears. “Oh, my goodness… was it all just a dream?” she whispered, her mind racing to make sense of it. A breathless, incredulous laugh escaped her. “It was all just a dream! A weird, unsettling dream.”

Yet, as the initial shock settled, another thought took its place. It had felt so real, so vivid, like she had actually lived it. But more than that—it had forced her to confront the very things she had been avoiding. Her doubts, her fears, and her regrets.

Seeing her friends had been the catalyst, but the dream had been the wake-up call.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t merely just a dream. Maybe it was a sign to stop waiting for the world to change for her. There's still time to pursue her dreams and embrace new beginnings. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be exciting.