I flipped down my visor and looked into my eyes as I smoothed my hair back into the ponytail where a few wisps had blew about in the breeze of the open windows. "You can do this," I told myself, pretending not to hear the hint of hysteria in my tone. It had been building all morning. My alarm had buzzed, as per usual, at seven. I climbed up with an immediate plummeting sensation in my stomach as I looked at my bag and box stashed next to my bedroom door. It only got more and more intense as I grabbed clothes: a pair of black slacks, a light blue silk blouse, and sensible barely-there kitten-heeled shoes, and made my way into the bathroom to shower. Then it became positively nauseating as I forced myself to drink coffee and eat a corn muffin from the coffee shop on my way over. I had no idea what my day would entail so I wanted to be caffeinated and have something in my stomach just in case. I exhaled loudly, pulling out my keys, then climbing out of my car.
