: Reflect on small wins as evidence of your ability to thrive, even if the year didn't go "according to plan". or explore more of Grace Chua’s poetry
A woman was standing in front of him. She was beautiful, with dark hair and a faint scar above her eyebrow. She looked startled, her hand raising to touch her lips.
They moved to the sliding glass door. The air outside was thick, smelling of wet pavement and ozone. The city skyline was a jagged row of lights in the distance, indifferent to their private apocalypse.