Expiration Date: Chapter 2 Is This Illegal?

 Expiration Date

Chapter 2 Is This Illegal?

The rest of the day passes in a haze of half-listened lectures and homework I’m too tired to start. In English, we’re assigned an essay: “What defines a meaningful life?” Since we’re seniors now, we’re supposed to have these big dreams and goals about our lives beyond school. I stare at the page and feel absolutely nothing. Everyone around me scribbles like they already know who they’re destined to be.

After school, I walk to Rachel’s Diner, where I work weekends. Extra shifts help my dad cover rent. By the time I get home, my hands smell like greasy fryer oil, my feet ache, and my backpack feels heavier than usual.

Dad’s truck isn’t in the driveway, so he must be working late. I make a sandwich from the leftovers, eat it standing in the kitchen. Mom sent a postcard from Lisbon last week. The front shows a street so bright and cobbled it looks like a painting. She writes: Live big, Clara. Love loud.

I tuck it into a drawer with the others. It’s like keeping someone’s photograph in a box: pretty, but distant. After the second postcard, I stopped reading it. 

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My phone glows in the dark while I charge it on the nightstand. The Elysia site is bookmarked, even though I don’t remember doing it. A tab blinks:

“Happiness starts with your name. Enter it below.”

I type my name, my fingers moving delicately across the keyboard: Clara Monroe.

A new box appears:

“What would make your year perfect?”

I stare at it. What do I want?

    I want to stop feeling invisible.

    I want Mom to call.

    I want to stop panicking every time someone says “future.”

I delete it.

Instead, I type: Graduation. College. Peace.

A soft chime echoes. The screen flickers. A silver logo appears.

Thank you, Clara. Your Best Year begins soon. 

I turned off my phone, heart hammering. Something inside me feels excited and happy that my perfect life is about to begin. And yet, there is this tingling sensation of unease, telling me to cancel the form I just submitted. 

Paradise, or is it?

English Corner

Haze (n.): 霧霧的 a state of mental confusion; passed by in a blur

Scribbles (v.): 匆匆的寫 write or draw something hurriedly

Greasy (adj.): 油膩的 covered with grease or oil

Leftovers (n.): 廚餘 something, usually food, remaining after the rest has been used or eaten

Postcard (n.): 明信片 a card for sending messages, usually in an envelope

Blinks (v.): 閃爍 a momentary appearance of something

Invisible (adj.): 隱形的 unable to be seen

Unease (n.): 不安 a feeling of worry, anxiety, or discomfort