Over It

Ugh. What am I even supposed to do today?

The question echoed in my head like a slow, dragging echo. Every day feels like a loop—like I'm stuck in some invisible cycle I can't escape. I wake up, I eat, I walk through the same paths, see the same trees, talk to the same people—if I even talk to anyone. Sometimes, it gets suffocating. Beautiful as this place is, even beauty becomes dull when you see it over and over again without change.

After breakfast, I usually head to the garden. It's quiet there, peaceful, but predictable. Then I check in with Mom, ask if she needs help with anything. After that, I try to talk to Max—my one and only best friend. That's pretty much it. That's my routine. That's my life.

It used to be better when I was still doing homeschool. At least then, my mind was occupied with deadlines, papers, and video calls with online instructors. But now that I've graduated, I'm left with nothing. No structure. No goal. Just… this endless stretch of stillness.

I've been homeschooled my entire life. Even through college. I've never stepped into a real classroom, never had to worry about finding a seat in the cafeteria or making group projects with classmates. I've never experienced a school dance, never worn a fancy gown to prom or twirled under string lights at homecoming. Not even a graduation ball. I only knew about those things because Max told me.

Max is the daughter of one of our farm workers. Her parents have been here longer than I've been alive. We were born just months apart, played in the fields as babies, and grew up side by side. Even now, we're still friends. But since she moved to the city for work, we barely talk. She's always busy. I sighed, a familiar ache settling in my chest.

Sometimes I envy her. She gets to live. Really live.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, hoping for something—anything—to distract me. No messages. Just one missed call from an unknown number. I didn't bother with it. Probably just spam.

Dad had already left. That's always been his routine—he eats breakfast early and then disappears into whatever mysterious business he runs. He never talks about it. He's always been distant, but strict. Especially with me.

I decided to look for Mom.

I wandered down the hallway, the old wooden floors creaking under my bare feet. I checked her room first—empty. Then I moved toward Dad's office, the one next to their bedroom. The door was half-open. I peeked in.

There she was, seated behind the heavy oak desk, talking on the phone. She looked elegant and composed, her voice low and measured. Her eyes flicked to the door when she saw me, surprise briefly crossing her face. I stepped inside and settled onto the black leather couch across from her desk, waiting.

We actually look a lot alike—same chestnut brown hair, the same fair skin and brown eyes. We're both just about five feet tall. Sometimes people say I'm her mirror. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"Okay, we'll talk later," she said into the phone before setting it down.

"Yes, sweetie?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Mom… do you ever get bored?" I asked quietly.

Her brows furrowed, the corners of her mouth twitching in thought. She gave me a half-smile.

"No," she replied. "I always find something to do. With a farm this big and just me managing it, there's no way I could get bored."

I lowered my eyes and stared at my fingers.

"Why, honey? Are you bored?"

I looked up and forced a smile.

"I want to work, Mom. I want to experience a normal life… like Max. I don't even care if the salary's small. I just want to do something, be somewhere new. Just… something."

She stood up slowly and walked around her desk to sit beside me on the couch. She wore a deep purple blouse tucked into a sleek black skirt. Her dark brown hair was pinned neatly at the back. She looked graceful—like always. And ageless. She looked exactly the same as she did in my childhood memories. It was almost unnatural.

"What do you want to do? Try a new hobby? I can enroll you in pottery, or baking, or something here on the farm?" she offered gently.

I shook my head, a little too quickly. No more hobbies. No more distractions.

I gave her a soft smile and said, "No, Mom. I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll just find something new on my own."

She hugged me tightly and kissed both my cheeks. Her embrace was warm, but it didn't reach the cold fog building inside me. I stood and quietly made my way back to my room.

Everything in my room was pink—from the floral sheets on my oversized queen bed to the fluffy rug in front of my vanity. On the left was my pink dresser, and on the right, my old study table still cluttered with unused notebooks. Across from the bed was a large window. If you looked out, you could see the orchard where rows of apple trees stood in perfect lines, green and silent. I used to love that view. Now, it just felt like another reminder of how small my world was.

I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Ugh… what am I even going to do today?

I suddenly thought of Max. Maybe she was free?

I grabbed my phone and called her. She picked up after two rings.

"Yo girl! What you doin'?" she greeted cheerfully. I could hear car horns in the background. She was definitely out.

"Nothing," I said flatly. "Rotting in bed."

She laughed. "I miss you. But I'm about to head into work. I'll call you later, okay?"

Of course she was busy. She always was. I was the only one left behind.

"Sure," I said, then ended the call.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and got up, pacing slowly from the window to my study table, back and forth, back and forth—three times. I could feel the restless energy building in my chest like steam. I needed to do something. Anything.

Then it hit me.

It's still early. If I come back before Dad gets home, no one will even notice I left.

But how?