Lila sat on the edge of a weathered park bench, her laptop resting on her knees. She had chosen this spot for its view: an open meadow framed by towering oaks, their leaves trembling in the crisp autumnal air. Yet her eyes were glued to the screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and erasing the same sentence for the tenth time. She was drafting a proposal for a project that wouldn’t begin for another year, but it consumed her thoughts now, as though it were the only thing that mattered.

Behind her, laughter rang out. A child chased after a paper plane; her joy unrestrained as the wind carried the flimsy craft higher than she’d expected. Lila’s gaze flicked up for a second. The child was radiant, her face tilted toward the sky, arms reaching, but Lila turned back to her screen with a resigned sigh. “I don’t have time for that,” she muttered to herself.

She didn’t have time because the future demanded her attention. Every decision she made felt like another brick in the path she was building toward a nebulous goal. Success, security, respect. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted anymore, only that she needed to keep moving forward. The present, with its distractions and imperfections, felt like an inconvenience.

Her phone buzzed on the bench beside her. A notification. She glanced at it: a text from her best friend, Mia. Come by the café. We miss you! Lila hesitated, her fingers brushing the phone. She could picture the scene: Mia and a few others sipping coffee, their conversation light and easy, laughter spilling over the edges. The thought warmed her, but guilt clawed at her chest. She couldn’t abandon her work for something so... unproductive.

She typed a quick excuse and hit send, her heart sinking as the notification disappeared. Another brick laid; another moment sacrificed.

An older man ambled past, a cane supporting his uneven gait. He stopped near the bench, pulling a thermos from his coat pocket. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” he said, glancing at her.

Lila managed a distracted nod, her fingers still poised over her keyboard.

He chuckled softly. “You know, when I was your age, I thought the same way. Always looking ahead, planning, working. Didn’t even notice the seasons changing around me.”

This time, Lila looked up. The man’s eyes crinkled with a kind of sadness that struck her. “Did it work out for you?” she asked, surprising herself.

He took a slow sip from his thermos before answering. “In some ways, yes. I built a career, a comfortable life. But I also missed a lot. Time with my family. The simple joy of sitting in a park like this, feeling the wind on my face. I thought I’d catch up on all that later.” His gaze turned distant. “But later doesn’t always come the way you expect.”

Lila’s chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to explain that her work was important, that it would lead to something meaningful. But the words felt hollow even as they formed in her mind.

The man smiled gently, as if sensing her turmoil. “Just don’t forget to live while you’re building your future,” he said, tipping his hat before walking on.

Lila stared after him, his words echoing in her mind. She shut the laptop and leaned back, letting her head rest against the bench. The wind stirred her hair, carrying with it the scents of fallen leaves and distant rain. For the first time that day, she let herself breathe.

Her phone buzzed again. Another text from Mia: We’re still here if you change your mind.

Lila stood; her laptop forgotten for the moment. She walked toward the café, the sound of her boots crunching against the gravel a small, grounding comfort. As she entered, the warm hum of conversation enveloped her. Mia waved her over, her smile as bright as the child chasing the paper plane.

They talked for hours, their laughter weaving into the café’s soft ambiance. For once, Lila didn’t check her email or glance at the time. She didn’t worry about the proposal or the countless things on her to-do list. Instead, she savoured the present: the steam rising from her coffee, the warmth of shared stories, the richness of connection.

Later, as she walked home, the stars emerged one by one in the darkening sky. Lila felt a quiet contentment she hadn’t known in years. Her work would still be there tomorrow, but tonight was hers. The present, she realized, was not an inconvenience. It was a gift, fleeting and precious, waiting for her to notice.