Her partners were not going to like it. A week spent away from the office, right at the end of the busiest time of the year, and worse, right before the summer holidays. True that among themselves they had decided upon an extended vacation, and true they had not included Claire in the decision-making process, but it was a great deal of time off nonetheless.
And for what? For a seminar on fiscal policy? For a workshop on international accounting? No. For a pottery class. An expensive, elitist, whimsical week spent at an artists’ colony in the south of France.
Her family was not going to like it. All the accommodating they had done over the years, the Tuesday-night pizzas and the Saturdays left hanging while she attended classes, lectures and workshops had only been a preview of the desertion to come. She was well aware that they had not signed on for the whole shebang.
Yet, Claire was tired of stiff-upper-lipping it. She was feeling her body begin its slow downshift into oblivion, and the idea that she’d never truly ventured out in pursuit of her dream nagged at her in perpetual reproach. Small, seemingly impossible opportunities had drifted by her, beckoning from across untraversable distances, and she had seen them wistfully off, to be grabbed by other, more ambitious takers.
Claire unclenched her teeth, smoothed her brow and sat up straight. This was not an idle fantasy. Before her was an application form that offered workable dates at a reasonable, no, a bargain price.
When a person chances upon such a door, Claire thought, either she walks through, or she sits back down and begins to decompose.
Caution and prudence had served her well, yes, and she had done her bit, had always risen to the tasks and obligations required. The blinking cursor with her name on it was calling. ‘Time’s up’ it flashed. ‘You in or you out?’
This week's word for is DOOR 3: a means of access or participation : opportunity
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