Layla wakes. Immediately she opens her eyes and glimpses the room around her.
Chair. Dressing table. Wardrobe. Windows. Curtains—closed. Yesterday’s clothes strewn over the the carpet. Everything is the same.
Of course nothing’s changed. There’s no reason why waking to a new day would bring about seismic alterations to her life.
Except that last night, before slipping into her nightie, she’d hoped—prayed even—for a fresh start on waking. It was a new year after all. The best time to begin again. The opportunity to make resolutions and changes to an ordinary life.
And last year was abysmal. There’d been the pandemic, she’d lost her job, her flat, moved into her childhood bedroom at mum’s home, then watched and nursed as Mum wasted away with the illness. The funeral was only last month.
Layla longs to put it all behind her. She leaps from her bed, determined that positivity will adorn her every move. She picks up the bundle of clothes and throws them in the linen basket to wash later. She’ll do the bedsheets too. And then, she’ll begin a job search.
Life will be better this year. Layla more than hopes for it, she’ll make it happen.