There was a knock on the door.

It was a hoped for sound and ears pricked up in excitement.
Moving slowly toward the door, the hesitation only momentary, she glanced in the mirror one last time. The reflection showed a radiating smile the likes of which she had never produced before.

This was it. A shabby apartment to be left behind, memories of being penniless soon to be forgotten, and money would bring her friends, of this, she was certain.

There was a knock on the door for the second time.

"Coming." Feet seemed to become airborne as she sailed to the door. There was not a moment's reluctance reaching for the doorknob.


"Hello," a stranger said as she welcomed him in. "You are Miranda Whisks?" he asked. "Apartment 13?"

"Me? No. This is apartment 12 and my name is...never mind," she cried as she closed the door.

She woke up with tears streaming down her face. No balloons, roses, or a big check came today. It was all a dream she realized and scolded herself vehemently. It was the right date and time but Publishers Clearing House had deluded her again with mail solicitations to enter their drawing. After all, she had a winning number, haha.

Making coffee, realization crept upon her. Her life was what it was, never to change.
She lifted the pot and aimed at the cup and
there was a knock on the door...