The sunlight gently seeped through the curtains and brushed against Mary's cheeks. Slowly, she opened her eyes, feeling lighter than usual. It wasn't just another morning—it was as if she'd awakened from a long, deep sleep of the mind and soul. She rose from bed, pulled the curtain aside, and stood silently, watching the blue sky.
As she got ready for work, her mind wandered. The job she held in a small industrial company had never truly resonated with her. It was stable, yes—but colorless, rigid, and far from the world she longed for.
Mary (to herself):I've loved drawing since I was a child... but all I've ever heard is, "Art won't pay the bills."
Every time she brought up her love for art, friends and family reminded her how hard it was to earn money as an artist. A stable job in an office or company was, according to them, the smarter choice for a secure future.
Still, Mary had never truly given up. Even with limited time and energy, she held on to that small, persistent flame of creativity.
The streets of the city center buzzed with their usual morning rhythm as Mary walked to the metro station. But today, something had shifted. Her gaze was no longer passing—she was really seeing people.
At the park nearby, she noticed a little girl playing with a small, happy dog. The girl's laughter rang through the air, warm and infectious. Mary stopped for a moment, a smile forming on her face.
Mary (softly):Lucky kid... all she wants from life is that dog and a bit of joy.
At the metro station, the air pulsed with the sound of arriving trains and hurrying feet. Mary boarded and found a spot to stand. Her eyes wandered over the passengers until they stopped at an elderly woman seated nearby, absorbed in a book. Her expressions shifted subtly with each turn of the page—her eyebrows lifting in surprise now and then.
When the seat beside the woman opened up, Mary quickly took it and offered a gentle smile.
Mary:Hi there.
Woman:Hello, dear. How are you?
Mary:I'm good, thank you. I'm Mary. I couldn't help but notice how deeply you're enjoying that book... What are you reading?
The woman closed the book, glanced at the cover with a warm smile, and said:
Woman:It's written in French. That's probably why you couldn't make out the title. I'm originally from France, and I enjoy reading in my native language. I'm Ginous, by the way.
Mary (curious):Oh, I see! So, what's the book about?
Ginous:It's actually a cookbook—filled with traditional French recipes.
Mary (surprised):Really? I thought it was a novel... or maybe something motivational.
Ginous (smiling):To me, it feels like a novel. I adore cooking. But for years, I didn't have time. I worked nonstop, eating out most days. It wasn't until after fifty that I realized how far I'd drifted from what I love.
Mary:So you don't work anymore?
Ginous:I've been retired for four years now. These days, learning to cook is my full-time passion. You know, Mary, sometimes we only understand what really matters when we think we're out of time.
Mary:At least you have a steady pension... and you're doing what you love.
Ginous:That same steady paycheck kept me away from my passion for twenty years. Sometimes I wonder—if I had followed cooking from the beginning, I might have had my own little restaurant by now. But... it's never too late to start.
Mary (softly):Easier said than done... chasing dreams without money is hard.
Ginous (rising to leave):Maybe. But it's still worth trying once. This is my stop. So lovely talking to you, Mary. I hope I didn't talk your ear off.
Mary:Not at all. I really enjoyed this. Though I kept you from reading your book...
Ginous (grinning):Books will wait. Good conversations don't come as often. Goodbye, dear.
Ginous stepped off the train and disappeared into the flow of people. Mary sat still, her gaze following the woman until she was out of sight.
Mary (to herself):Easier said than done... But didn't I tell myself just last night—no more fear? Time to think clearly. Time to make a plan. Okay, Mary... let's figure this out.