I rushed from job to job, absorbing radiation from a computer monitor, mixing Manhattans and blending margaritas, steaming milk, uncorking wine and witnessing hundreds of kilometers under the foot of my gas pedal.
I pulled my car over in the mornings, taking 10 minute naps, before shaking myself off with my window rolled down and continuing on my way, visualizing the car crash. I smiled as I answered the phone ("because people can hear your smile") and waded through the groggy early morning mess.
But I stole the moments when I could. I bathed in the sunshine at lunches, washing away the day's tedium. I inhaled the thick summer air deeply every time I carried a cheesecake to its owner on the patio. I sat with Chloe downtown, wearing pretty dresses, dipping a spoon deep into the pitcher of our favourite slushy drink. I drove with my sunroof open, dress hiked up and singing loudly.
It's slipping away too quickly, and now the rain has returned.