I believe life is full of opportunities—some worth taking risks for, yielding surprising results, while others turn into spectacularly bad decisions. At just 14 years old, I wouldn't call myself experienced, but I often wonder: why am I alive? Is it just to keep taking risks and see what sticks? Is it really worth the trouble?

In a universe overflowing with galaxies we haven't even fully counted, I live in a tiny, abandoned corner called the Milky Way. And even in this galaxy, I'm tucked away in an insignificant solar system, on an even smaller planet. So the question remains: am I significant?

All these unanswerable questions buzz around in my head like a swarm of annoying flies. And just as they start to fade, I hear it—the dreaded sound of my alarm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

"Another sleepless night, I assume, Zeus?" I grumble, groaning into my pillow.

"Good morning, Little Eve!" Zeus chirps. Too cheerful. Way too cheerful.

"You're going to be late for work again, and Miss Mason is definitely going to scold you. So get up already! Also, stop calling me Little Eve. I'm not little anymore!"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, waving her off. "I'm practically ready. Just need to put my clothes on. You know how fast I am."

"Sure," she says, rolling her eyes so hard I can practically hear them squeak.

I ruffle her hair as I stumble past her toward the common washroom in our cramped one-bedroom apartment. We live here together—me and my sister—each on our own tiny beds in a room so small it might as well be a closet. The story of how we ended up here? Let's just say it's a saga for another day.

As I glance at the clock, reality hits me like a slap to the face. "Oh no, I'm late!"

I threw on my work jacket in a rush and bolted for the door. "See you soon, Eve! Don't forget to study for your exam—and don't forget the white!" I shouted over my shoulder, whatever that meant. Honestly, sometimes my words outran my brain.

My workplace is an hour away by foot, and the most affordable way to get there is… you guessed it—running. I dashed through the streets, a routine that's made me a self-proclaimed marathoner in disguise.

The usual chaos unfolded as I sped past. Vendors yelled their standard fare of "Watch where you're going!" as I accidentally toppled their carefully placed wares, and old neighbors shook their heads in disapproval as I vaulted over a low wall, turning shortcuts into an art form. But hey, they'll miss my antics when I'm famous—or so I tell myself.

Finally, I reached the workshop, drenched in sweat and barely on time. The bell chimed as I entered, and I immediately darted toward my locker to grab my polishing tools. My plan was simple: avoid eye contact, stay invisible, and blend in like a piece of wood.

Of course, my luck had other plans. There she was—Miss Mason—standing smack in the middle of the workspace like a boss-level NPC in a video game. She had this uncanny ability to appear exactly where I didn't want her to be.

"Oh, you're early again?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Stumped, as always, I offered my go-to response: a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Miss Mason. I'll do extra work. Please forgive me."

She smirked, clearly enjoying her moral high ground. "You know, I must be one of the noblest souls alive to forgive you every single day. And by the way, you smell exactly like yesterday. Haven't I told you this is a workplace? Try showing up looking… human. Now, polish all the furniture—and there's extra work waiting for you in the storeroom. Consider it your penance."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and marched off, leaving me standing there with my tools and a mix of relief and frustration.

I sighed, half tempted to make a sarcastic remark to the empty room. "Thank you, Miss Mason, for your inspiring pep talk. I'll add it to my motivational quotes collection," I muttered under my breath as I got to work.

Polishing furniture isn't glamorous, but it keeps the lights on and food on the table. Still, as I worked, the familiar question popped into my mind: Is this worth it?

The answer? Probably not. But then I thought of Eve—my little sister who gets up every morning, chirping and optimistic despite everything. Maybe it's worth it for her. For today, at least. Tomorrow? Who knows.

So I kept polishing. Kept working. Kept grinding. That's life, isn't it? An endless cycle of labor, frustration, and fleeting hope. And yet… here I am.