A Summer Shift – 2025
It was the summer of 2025, and everything felt… the same. Predictable. Repetitive. Life had turned into a cycle of waking up, scrolling through meaningless posts, and wondering what to do next. Nothing exciting. Nothing worth remembering. I was just a boring girl living a boring life, tucked away in the corners of a sleepy town, where even the wind seemed tired of blowing.
Alone, as always.
No friends to hang out with in the evenings, no siblings to tease, and barely any relatives who remembered my name unless there was a festival. But today, something inside me stirred—a faint rebellion against the dull routine. Today, let's do something. Anything. I told myself, unsure of what that would be.
Then, out of nowhere, my phone buzzed. A call.
I stared at the screen, confused to see an unknown number. My curiosity won, and I picked up.
"Hello?" I said cautiously.
A familiar voice burst through the speaker—my aunt. "Oh, sweetie! You've given your 10th-grade exams, haven't you? How was it?!" she chirped, probably more excited than necessary.
For a moment, I had to rewind my mind. Exams… Oh, right. I had finished them nearly two weeks ago. It felt like a dream I had forgotten to wake up from. "It was good," I replied, unsure whether I meant it or was just saying it to end the call quicker.
She kept talking, but my mind drifted. I had three whole months of summer vacation ahead of me. No classes, no homework, no excuses. Just silence, and more silence, echoing through my lonely room and empty calendar.
After the call ended, I flopped on my bed, staring at the ceiling. "Is this it?" I whispered to myself.
That's when another call came. This time, it was someone I was actually happy to hear from—my best friend, Frisbee. Of course, that wasn't her real name, but we'd called her that since the second grade when she'd smacked a boy in the face with a flying disc. A legend.
"Hey loser," she laughed. "Stop sulking at home and come join this computer class with me. I found this place, and they've got actual computers, not the dusty junk we used at school."
A pause. My heartbeat quickened.
"Computer class?"
"Yeah! It starts tomorrow. You in?"
There was a part of me that wanted to say no. But instead, I said, "Let's do it."
Later that evening, we visited the institute together. The place was tucked between a medical store and a rundown bakery, barely noticeable from the road. But inside, it had a strange charm. The walls were covered with posters of computer parts and faded motivational quotes. The buzz of ceiling fans, the clack of keyboards, the occasional cough from somewhere behind the curtain—it was all oddly comforting.
Then, he walked in. The head of the institute.
An old man with silver hair that stood up in strange directions, as if even his hair refused to be bored. He wore thick glasses and carried a wooden pointer stick like a wizard with a wand. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and slow—like a mountain talking.
"You can join from tomorrow," he said, eyes sweeping over the two of us. "Sharp at 11 a.m. Not one minute late."
Frisbee and I exchanged a quick glance. I nodded. She nodded. We were in.
As we walked out of the institute, the warm evening breeze brushed past us. For the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of something new—maybe it was hope, or maybe just the idea that life didn't always have to stay the same.
Maybe this summer wasn't going to be boring after all.