The clock in Tessa's small, dimly lit apartment ticked past midnight, its steady beat a cold reminder that time never stops, even when you wish it would. She sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers clenched around her phone, its screen dark after the call that had just ended. The words still echoed in her mind, each one like a needle piercing her hope.

"We're sorry, but we had more qualified candidates," the voice on the other end had said. "We appreciate your interest, but we can't offer you a spot in the nursing program at this time."

It was over. Tessa stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to overflow. But they came, hot and relentless, streaming down her cheeks. She had worked so hard, scraped together the money for application fees, taken extra shifts at the diner, and studied late into the night. All for this one chance. This one opportunity to make a better life for herself, to escape the grayness that seemed to cling to everything around her.

But now it was gone. The rejection email would arrive in her inbox by morning, confirming what she already knew. It felt like her last thread of hope had snapped, leaving her in a freefall of despair.

The apartment was silent except for her muffled sobs and the distant hum of the city outside. It was a small place, just a single room with a kitchenette and a bathroom. A narrow window looked out onto an alleyway where trash bins overflowed, their contents scattered by scavenging animals. The view seemed to mock her, a reflection of how messy and uncertain her life had become.

Tessa picked up the photograph on her bedside table, the one of her and her grandmother taken years ago, before her grandmother had passed away. It was her grandmother who had inspired her to become a nurse, who had taken care of her when no one else would. She had promised her grandmother that she would make something of herself, that she would find a way out of this life.

"I'm sorry, Nana," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. "I tried. I really did."

The tears came faster now, a flood of grief and frustration. It felt like the world was collapsing around her, the walls closing in, the ceiling pressing down. She couldn't breathe. She thought about quitting, about letting go of everything, about ending the pain that seemed unbearable. Would anyone even notice if she was gone? Would anyone care?

As she sat there in the darkness, her thoughts spiraling into the void, she heard a faint sound from the hallway. A soft knock on her door, hesitant and unsure. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. Who could it be at this hour?

The knock came again, a little louder this time. "Tessa? Are you okay?" It was Mrs. Miller, her neighbor from across the hall, an elderly woman who often brought her extra food from church gatherings. She had always been kind to Tessa, but they weren't close. Not really.

Tessa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood, her legs unsteady. She opened the door a crack and saw Mrs. Miller standing there in her robe, her gray hair tied back in a loose bun. "I heard crying," Mrs. Miller said, her voice gentle. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Tessa swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. "I'm fine," she said, but her voice broke on the last word.

Mrs. Miller shook her head. "No, you're not," she said. "Can I come in? I brought some tea. It might help you sleep."

Tessa hesitated, then nodded and opened the door wider. Mrs. Miller stepped inside, carrying a small tray with a teapot and two cups. She set it down on the small table by the window and poured a cup of tea for Tessa. "It's chamomile," she said. "Good for calming the nerves."

Tessa took the cup with trembling hands and sat down on the bed. Mrs. Miller pulled up a chair and sat beside her. They sat in silence for a moment, the warmth of the tea spreading through Tessa's cold fingers. It was a simple comfort, but it felt like a lifeline.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mrs. Miller asked gently.

Tessa shook her head. "I... I don't know if I can," she said, her voice barely audible.

"That's okay," Mrs. Miller replied. "Sometimes it helps to just sit with someone. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

Tessa nodded, her tears slowing but still falling. She felt a glimmer of warmth from Mrs. Miller's presence, a small reminder that she wasn't alone, even in her darkest moment. It wasn't much, but it was something to hold onto, something to keep her breathing, if only for a little longer. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

© Be Kisambi