"I'm tired." Jennifer leaned back with a deep sigh—the kind that only comes from women too tired to bother saying anything more.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Perfect weather to take the family she didn't have to the park and feed the ducks. Or maybe sit alfresco at a café with a boyfriend she didn't have, people-watching while sipping overpriced coffee.
She could invite a friend for a chat, if she had the social energy. Or go for a run, if she had the enthusiasm.
Instead, all she had were her crummy webnovels open on her laptop. Her life's work. None of them finished.
"Story of my life," Jennifer muttered, sighing again.
At forty, she was ahead of her peers in one respect: feeling old. While her girlfriends were still buying makeup and showing cleavage, Jennifer—kindergarten teacher extraordinaire—dressed like her students: comfy T-shirts, sweatpants or jeans, zero makeup. Not even sunscreen, because she was a rebel that way.
Clicking aimlessly through her dashboard, she noted the contracts left unsigned for each novel. One day she'd sign something, but for now, she just wanted to write.
A sudden knock on the door made her jump out of her skin. This was a perfectly natural reaction, given that Jennifer lived alone.
"Oh, sorry, dear," said her landlady, peeking inside. "Your door was unlocked… I rang the bell and knocked… Are you alright?"
Jennifer blinked. She hadn't heard anything—and she was sure she had locked the door.
"Ah, yes. I'm fine, thank you," she said, shutting the laptop.
When Jennifer grew as old as she felt, she hoped she would be like her landlady: kind, composed, and a little eccentric.
"I'm here to inform you," the landlady continued, "that I will be selling this building."
"What?" Jennifer sat up straight.
"Yes. I was wondering if you'd like to buy it."
"What?" Jennifer said again. Surely the landlady had lost her marbles.
"Yes. It's time I retired," she said calmly.
Jennifer opened her mouth to protest, but all she could do was laugh.
"I'd love to buy this place," she said, "but all I have are my webnovels."
The landlady smiled kindly. "Do you believe we are all products of someone else's stories?"
Jennifer truly had no response to that.
The landlady let herself out. "I best be on my way. Let me know what you decide."
And with perfectly timed precision, the lift doors opened, whisking her away.
Jennifer stared after her. Wth.