I'd barely slept last night. The thin blanket and lumpy mattress were a step up from a park bench, but not by much. Still, I felt slightly better than I had the night before—a full stomach and a roof overhead, however temporary, were luxuries I hadn't realized I'd taken for granted back home.

As I headed for the door, my gaze caught on a noticeboard mounted in the front lobby, just to the side of the desk where I'd signed in. It was a chaotic collage of flyers and posters, corners overlapping and colors clashing. Job ads, church group invites, counseling services, lost pets—it was all there.

And then one flyer caught my eye.

It wasn't flashy, just plain black text on white paper, but something about the bold words at the top drew me in:

Looking for a Fresh Start?

I stepped closer, scanning the poster.



Are you searching for a new experience? A chance to explore what it means to be you?

We're seeking individuals, aged 15-23, to take part in an exciting opportunity for personal growth and discovery.

This is your chance to try something new and be part of a unique, life-changing journey.

No experience required—just an open mind and a desire to start fresh.

Interested?

Schedule a meeting to learn more:

375 Park Avenue

Spots are limited. Take the first step today.



The words felt like they were written just for me—a second chance, a way to figure out who I was. The address wasn't far from here, either.

For a moment, I considered tearing it down and stuffing it in my pocket. But instead, I memorized the address and walked out into the crisp morning air, trying to shake the tiny spark of hope that the flyer had ignited.

The city was alive in a way that still felt foreign to me, its energy overwhelming. Cars honked, people rushed past, and the smell of street food mingled with the sharp bite of exhaust. I wandered without direction, my feet carrying me wherever they pleased.

Eventually, I found myself at a small park. I sat on a bench, pulling my sketchbook out of my backpack. It was one of the few things I'd brought with me from Albany. The worn leather cover was comforting, like a piece of home I wasn't quite ready to let go of.

I flipped to a blank page and stared at it for a long moment, the pencil in my hand hovering above the paper.

Sketching had always been my escape, a way to drown out the noise in my head. But lately, even that felt like another thing I wasn't good enough at. My lines were too messy, my shading uneven, my ideas half-formed.

Still, I started to draw. A tree caught my eye—its bare branches twisting against the gray sky like veins. The lines came slowly at first, my hand unsure, but soon the familiar rhythm of pencil against paper took over.

As the tree took shape on the page, I lost myself in the movement. It didn't matter that the proportions were off or that I smudged the corner. For a little while, it felt good just to create something.

But the moment passed, and the familiar doubt crept back in. I closed the sketchbook and shoved it into my bag, unable to shake the voice in my head whispering that it wasn't good enough. That I wasn't good enough.

By the time evening rolled around, I was back at the shelter, stomach growling and feet sore from walking all day.

"Sorry, kid," the woman at the desk said when I asked about a bed for the night. "We're full up. Try again tomorrow."

I nodded, swallowing the lump of disappointment in my throat. "Thanks anyway."

I wandered the streets until I found another park, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the ground. A bench near the edge of the park looked as good a spot as any. I sat down and leaned back, staring up at the sky as stars began to flicker into view.

My stomach growled again, louder this time, but there was nothing I could do about it. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to ignore the gnawing ache.

As I stared into the darkening sky, my mind drifted back to the poster I'd seen that morning.

Looking for a Fresh Start?

The words kept looping in my head, stubborn and insistent.

Maybe it was a scam. Maybe it was too good to be true. Or maybe it was just another dead-end, like so many other things in my life. But what if it wasn't?

What if this was the chance I'd been waiting for?

I pulled the collar of my coat over my chin, the cold air biting at my face. For the first time since I'd left Albany, I felt something other than fear and doubt. It wasn't quite hope, but it was close.

I couldn't keep wandering aimlessly like this. I was tired of feeling stuck, of running from my problems without ever facing them.

Tomorrow morning, I'd go to the address.

Whatever this opportunity was, it had to be better than sleeping on a park bench.