King Streetcar, rumbling to work a little late.

Caucasian woman, late 20s, with blonde bob, wearing maroon cords and black windbreaker, carrying a MEC shoulder bag, cell phone clipped to the strap. She leans forward in her seat to accommodate the overstuffed back pack she keeps on for two stops until she hops off into the street.

The One Minute Manager, Ken Blanchard & Spencer Johnson (William Morrow & Company)

Page 33:

"As you can see, there are four categories of daily activities that we all face."

The things we want to do and have to do;
The things we have to do but don't want to do;
The things we want to do but don't have to do;
The things we don't want to do and don't have to do.

A plastic step stool, scuffed and greying. Fuzzy covers masking the stir ups. A Christmas card thumbtacked to the cork board. It's almost June. Tears mark the cushion's edge of a lopsided swivel chair. Rust rims the base of the examination table. Paint chips away from the wall. A plant fossilizes on the desk. She shifts her weight, her tail bone aching, feeling as broken as the rest of this lot.