It was another perfect Sunday and Ana Cabrón barely had time to notice the pink cherry blossoms outside her bay window. The air outside carried the rich scent of cinnamon buns and French-pressed coffee drifting up from the street-level cafés that surrounded her building. The park was in full spring bloom, bustling with the post church Easter crowd. But inside, Ana sat in her pajamas, untouched by the holiday spirit. There was no time for celebration, not with deadlines looming.
           Her fingers flew across the keyboard, almost on autopilot, knocking out clients’ tax returns at an impressive speed. The Pottery Barn desk she once splurged on was now buried under mountains of folders and stray Post-its. Her third coffee sat cold. Her jaw ached from clenching. The luxury apartment, once meant to be a reward for her hard work, now felt more like an extension of her cubicle.
           Just one more week until tax season is over. The phrase repeated in her mind, but instead of comfort, it tightened her chest. Her breathing quickened. There was no way she could finish everything in time.
           She did everything her job asked. Every year, she hit her numbers, even when it nearly broke her. The pay was good enough to justify staying, at least at first. She should’ve left after that brutal first year, but she was naive and wanted to prove herself. Then came the luxury apartment, the Jeep, the lifestyle. As her spending grew, so did her dependance on the job. She gave up weekends, sleep, family, even relationships. All for a job that never gave her peace. And now the weight of it all was crushing her. She couldn’t keep living like this.
           As a distraction, she refreshed her email, hoping one of the pharmacy technician jobs she’d applied to had finally responded. Nothing. Of course not. Who would hire a burned out accountant with no healthcare experience? Still, the role had appealed to her for one simple reason, it only required a high school diploma. It was full time, stable, and most importantly, not life consuming. A chance at something quieter, less demanding. She’d applied on a hunch, desperate for a way out. But maybe that kind of hope was foolish.
           Her phone pinged with a text from her sister:
           Chica. Tío Luis is actually here. You need to get over to Abuelas now.
           Ana took a deep breath and set the phone down without replying. Another family gathering without her. By now, they were used to her absence. Disappointment had become part of the routine.
           She checked her email again. Still nothing. She’d done a few interviews last month, but none had followed up. Maybe there were more pharmacy jobs she hasn’t seen? She refreshed the job board, but the listings were the same she had already applied to. She sighed. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be her life.
Another text pinged. This time from her cousin:
           I can’t believe you’re skipping Easter. You skipped my wedding and now this? Get your priorities together.
           Ana dropped her phone onto the desk and buried her face in her hands. She took a shaky breath, then another. Her chest tightened.
           She refreshed her email. Nothing. She clicked again, and still nothing.
Then a new message flashed across the screen from her boss:
           Subject: New Clients! Hi Ana. I’m handing you some more clients to take care of. I know you can do it! 😉
           Her vision blurred.
           Tax day was one week away, and she was already drowning. These new clients meant another seven days working until three in the morning. She blinked rapidly, looking around the room for anything to steady her. There was nothing.
Her stomach twisted. Her hands clutched the edge of the desk to keep herself upright. A wave of nausea rose and her pulse thundered in her ears.
           Then her phone lit up. Mom was calling.
           “No,” she whispered to no one. She rejected the call and closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe. She could do this. Just breathe.
           A new text followed from her mom:
           You think we’re mad at you because you’re busy? No. We’re mad because you forgot what’s important. Whatever you think you’re chasing, you’re never going to find it. You’re not even happy Ana.
           Ana’s chest caved in on itself as she struggled for air. Another panic attack was unfolding.
           Not again. Not now.
           She ran to the bathroom, splash cold water on her face and sank to the floor, holding her knees. She felt detached from the world. An invisible force choked her as she struggled to breath. She sobbed until her throat burned. A scream tore from her, raw and unstoppable.
           Who knows how long it lasted.
           When the moment passed she emerged from the bathroom exhausted. She needed a savior. But when she looked around, all she saw were spreadsheets.
Ana sat at her desk, hollow and numb, mindlessly refreshing her email.
           Subject: Offer of Employment- St. Helen Hospital, Pharmacy Technician (Full time Day shift) with Benefits.
           Ana stared at the screen. Everything went still. She got the job.
           The noise in her mind quieted, just for a moment. The grip on her chest began to loosen. She hadn’t felt like this in months.
          She read the offer again, then caught the salary figure. It’s nearly fifty thousand dollars less than her current salary. The number should’ve scared her, but it didn’t. It cleared her mind. She can adjust if it means a change. She’ll move back in with her parents, and sell the Jeep she never had time to drive.
           “I can do this,” she whispered to herself.
           Ana stepped out onto her balcony and finally noticed the park below, alive with pink cherry blossoms drifting in the breeze. It was a pity she had never noticed before. She smiled, feeling the wind on her face and the promise of new beginnings.
           She was free.

Brittany Ericksen returned to writing after earning a Theater Arts degree. She works as a pharmacy technician and lives with her husband and son. In her free time, she enjoys hiking and practicing ballet.