I woke with a start to the blaring sound of an alarm in my ear. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. I felt disoriented, and my body felt as though it was weighed down by hot lead. I couldn’t get myself to move a muscle. The sun was beating down on my face, but all I could
manage to do was shut my eyes. Something had happened the night before, but I couldn’t figure
out what it was. This was nothing new, but the feeling still seemed foreign, even after so many years. My body wasn’t responding to commands. More than anything else, I wanted to toss my
alarm clock across the room and watch it crash to the floor in pieces.
          I gave up trying to move and relaxed. I tuned out the alarm and pushed all thought out of my head. My mind began to clear, and I looked around the room. It was extremely messy, despite many attempts to clean it. Venna usually cleaned up when she stayed the night, but she hadn’t shown up the night before. I was never the last face she saw after a party.
          A few minutes later, I felt the tension in my limbs fade. I wiggled my toes, and then waved my arms and legs around. They were still heavy, but I got up anyway. I turned off the alarm and stretched, and then attempted a to walk toward the bedroom door. Before I could take more than a step, I lost my balance and stumbled. I tripped over a pile of clothes and toppled to the floor, slamming my shoulder against the bed frame in the process. Pain rang through my bones, but I ignored it and tried again.
          This time, I managed to make it to the bathroom without falling. I couldn’t walk in a straight line, but I got through the door and leaned on the sink without another incident. I turned the faucet and splashed cold water onto my face. I opened the medicine cabinet to avoid looking in the mirror, and then straightened. The dizziness disappeared and I took a deep breath.

          I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the bathtub. I turned the handle one without running it first, and ice cold water hit me so hard that I had to take a step back. It took a
few seconds, but it finally warmed. I didn’t make a move to do anything. I just let it fall over me and stood stoically underneath it. It was calming. Nothing else mattered.
          I heard my second alarm go off and sighed. I didn’t have time to revel in warm water. I was, as always, later than a pregnant woman waiting on her period. I cleaned up quickly and then went back to my room. I dried my hair and then pulled random articles of clothing to wear. I left
everything I hadn’t chosen in a pile on the floor.
          I finished dressing and grabbed a small bag and a pair of scarlet, marginally professional, slippers. I took the emergency stairs two at a time, making it down into the building’s empty lobby at record speed. I burst out of the building and tore down the street toward the subway, running in odd angles among throngs of vehicles baking in the sun of a crowded morning.
          A few seconds later, I slowed down, gasping for air. A glance at my watch proved that the energy I had wasted on running was futile. I was late. Regardless of how quickly I made it to the station, attempts at matching the speed of a cocaine-infested bear be damned, I was late. I was late, and I would never hear the end of it.
          I dragged my aching limbs down the crowded street, using the sidewalk this time, offering drivers a less irritating trip; Not that I cared. Attempting to drive in the city was a ridiculous idea, particularly at this time of day. Perhaps my opinion was built on envy. I had no
desire to walk for leisure, and definitely none for trekking to a job at which I did well solely for my grandiose imagination and mildly disconcerting affinity for manipulation.
          Today, it seemed much farther than it usually was. The rancid odor wafting up my nose from the fish market dumpster made my stomach churn as I passed it by. It rarely smelled so terrible this early in the morning. The darkness inside the shop indicated that the owner hadn’t
come in, yet. I silently cursed the waste removal company for forgetting to empty the thing the night before.

          I walked by the small alley just before the station’s entrance and marveled again at how quiet it was. I had curiously entered only once before, and despite its connection to the chaotic
main road, it was filled with nothing but silence. In the multitude of times I had passed it by, I had yet to see a single person here.
          I reached the station and took the stairs underground. I got stuck behind a woman at the pay gate who didn’t seem to understand how it worked. She was attempting to slide a dollar bill
through the reader. I thought about helping her, but I was late enough as it was. I slid my pass through the card reader at a different turnstile and walked onto the platform.
          I fought my way through the throng of people and made it as close to the tracks as possible without committing a very messy suicide. About thirty other people were waiting there with me, but when the train came, I beat everyone else onto it. I ignored my ever-present
discomfort with large crowds and looked around for an empty seat I could steal. Unsurprisingly, every chair was unavailable, bar only one next to the homeless man who smelled nearly as
terrible as the fish market’s dumpster. I wrapped my arm around a metal pole and looked around.
          The loud noises of the train disappeared and I tuned out all of the incessant talking and
yelling, courtesy of the loudmouthed group of boys taking up an entire corner of the car. I observed the people around me, as I so often did upon finding myself wedged into a pack of warm bodies.
          An old African American man in front of me was clutching a pole with both hands, his
eyes shut tight and his face contorted into an expression that displayed extreme anxiety. He visibly flinched with each jerk of the moving car we were boxed into. The crisp, white cuffs of his shirt under his black suit were beginning to blacken due to the filthy metal beam he likely
believed would save him from whatever it was that scared him so intensely.

          Looking directly at him with an exasperated expression was an old African American woman in a seat behind him. Her thin arms were crossed, and she was sitting on top of a newspaper, protecting her white skirt from getting dirty. A small, white fedora with a black bow was sitting in her lap, and her dark hair was up in a tight bun. Despite the wrinkles around her mouth and the dark circles around her eyes, she was quite beautiful. I uncrossed my arms and
met her gaze, and her annoyance melted into a small smile.
          Just as I was about to return the smile, the train jerked particularly hard, and I stumbled, knocking over and old man in front of me in the process. Both of us collided with the dirty floor of the car and moaned. The sound around me returned and seemed to intensify, and many different hands were held out to help me stand. I took one of them and tried to help the man up, but he was passed out on the floor. A small woman—whom I assumed was his wife—dropped to her knees and shook him gently, her body swaying violently as the conductor plowed on.
          I bent to do the same, but the car pulled to a stop at my station, and the doors opened. I looked between the doors and the man on the floor, trying to make up my mind. The woman patted my arm and jerked her head toward the door. I gave the man one final look, and then gave into my own selfishness and jumped out onto the platform just as the doors snapped shut. Many of those who had been in the car with me gave me disapproving looks, but I ignored them and wove through the growing crowd, and then ran up the stairs.
          The double doors to the large, glass building in which I worked was just across the street. I walked toward it, pulling my black jacket tighter, as though this would somehow make me look
less winded and more professional. Once inside, I went to the stairs and scurried up the steps to my floor, trying to stuff my shoes onto my feet in the process. For some reason, several of the people I worked with were missing from their desks. I came to a panicked realization a few seconds later.

          “Meeting,” I said. “Meeting, meeting, meeting. Conference room. Right now. I’m so screwed.”
          I ran toward the conference room and took a deep breath to compose myself before entering. Everyone looked up, and Richard Mann, Chief Executive Officer of the entire company and my difficult and insatiable boss, smiled at me. To anyone else, he seemed delighted to see me, but I knew better. As soon as the clients left, Mann was going to wring me so dry that I would be dehydrated for months.
          “Ari!” he said. “Wonderful of you to join us. You don’t mind giving your presentation, do you? We’ve been waiting.”
          “And I am running out of patience,” Marcus Joy, the founder of the La Mode timepiece company, said.
          Contrary to the positive connotation to his name, the man was in no way a joyous creature. The expression on his face was of extreme irritability, and the bitterness of it was due
only in part to my lateness. Every time I had, had the pleasure of his acquaintance, he looked annoyed. Nothing ever seemed to satisfy him, and he was not accustomed to being forced to wait
for anyone.
          I gave him a wide smile, wheels turning in my head at break-neck speed as I fumbled to come up with an idea. I was completely unprepared for this. I was supposed to have two more weeks. Seconds later, I found a semblance of a plan.
          “I’m late,” I said.
          “We know,” Joy snapped.
          I walked over to the front of the room and repeated, “I am late.”
          “Where are you going with this, Ari?” Mann whispered to me.
          “I’m late, Richard,” I said. “I am late, and I am standing at the front of a conference room scrambling to gather my thoughts in order to make a decent presentation for a client who very
clearly does not at all like me.”
          “I’m glad you’re aware,” Joy said.
          “I am late,” I said and held up my index finger, smiling brightly. “I am late, and everyone in this room is either praying for a miracle or glaring at me, wishing I would stop talking so we
can all leave.”
          “You are stalling, and I do not appreciate having our time wasted, Miss,” one of Joy’s consultants said.
          “Don’t speak for my time, Arthur,” Joy snapped.
          I looked at the man who had spoken. “It’s Ari; just Ari.”
          “Make your point,” Joy said.
          I pointed to Mann, “This is my boss. He is ready to fire me, because I wasn’t on time, and I am obviously about to ruin something that has taken months to set up.”
          “I wouldn’t fire you, Ari,” he said.
          I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to buy myself time to be more eloquent, but I gave up and turned back to Joy. “Do they not say that time is of the essence, Mr. Joy?”
          “This is obviously going nowhere,” Joy said and stood. “I don’t have time for this.”
          “But you do have time for this,” I said.
          “How do you know that?”
          “The allotted time for this meeting is one hour. I was fifteen minutes late, but you know that I still have thirty minutes of your patience left before you can leave reasonably early,
because you’re wearing a watch.”
          “You’re getting on my nerves.”
          “Yes, because I was late.”
          Joy looked at Mann. “I’m getting tired of her.”
          “Give her a minute,” Mann said. “Sit, Marcus.”
          Joy crossed his arms, but he didn’t sit down. “One minute.”
          “Everyone wearing a watch, please raise your hand,” I said.
          Only seven people raised their hands, and three of them had come with Joy.
          “Put your hand down if you’re not wearing La Mode,” I said.
          All of them, except one of Joy’s men, put their hands down.
          “What’s the time, exactly?” I asked him.
          “Ten thirty-one,” he said.
          “And?”
          “Forty-five seconds.”
          I turned to the large drawing pad resting on an easel behind me. I took a marker and wrote, ’10:31:45.’
          I looked at the guest whose hand was still up. “You can put your hand down, sir. I’m almost done.”
          Joy retook his seat, and I said, “I hope I’m not getting anyone into trouble for wearing enemy merchandise.”
          “We’ll see.”
          I looked at a guest who was wearing a different brand. “What time do you have?”
          “Ten thirty-four.”
          “And?”
          “That’s all.”
          I turned and wrote, ’10:34 ONLY.’
          “Bobby,” I said. “What time do you have?”
          “10:38,” he said.
          I turned and wrote it. I put the marker down and asked, “You were three minutes late for
work this morning, weren’t you, Bobby?”
          “How did you know that?”
          I didn’t, but I knew that he would agree with me regardless of what I said. I looked around the room.
          “Time,” I said. “Time is the most important component of every aspect of our daily lives. Time defines us; Where we go, what we do, even who we are, and can be malleable in part because even one second differs from the next.”
          I put the marker down.
          “I am late. I am flustered, and falling apart, and afraid for my job. I may get fired, and I may have to do something else, go somewhere else, be someone else, simply because of the five extra seconds I had wasted on my appearance before trying to make it onto the right train to get to work. A woman’s hair is her Everest, Mr. Joy.”
          He rolled his eyes and sat back. When he didn’t respond, I went on.
          “La Mode is the most accurate, most precise, most useful high-class watch on the market,” I said and put both of my hands on the table. “It only takes five seconds to miss a train.”
          He raised his eyebrows and looked at Mann. “She’s good at pulling things out of thin air, Mann.”
          “But do you really mean ‘thin air?’” I asked.
          “I don’t use expletives when I’m working,” Joy said.
          “What a waste of energy.”
          “I want a real report on my desk by Friday,” Joy said.
          I smiled. “Can I assume…”
          “You’ve got the account.”
          “Thank you.”
          “I was expecting theatrics at my offer.”
          “I do have at least one professional bone in my body, sir.”
          “I doubt that.”
          “Maybe because you find me too interesting to be normal.”
          “You’re too cocky.”
          I shrugged. “Or do I feign it well?”
          “What were you going to say, if you had not been late?”
          “Actually, my lateness was part of my clever plan.”
          “It was not that clever.”
          “Then why did you give me the account?”
          “Because I can only imagine what you could do if you were actually prepared for a job.”
          “Would you believe me if I told you that I actually was prepared?”
          “No, because I wouldn’t hire you.”
          “Then I’ll save my breath.”
          He actually smiled. “Good day.”
          “That it is.”
          He turned and left, taking his party and Mann with him. Once the door was shut, I collapsed into a seat and breathed.
          “Job well done, Ari,” Bobby said.
          “Were you late, today?” I asked.
          He laughed. “Early, actually.”
          “I must be a psychic.”
          “Not a very good one.”
          “I’m a woman of many talents,” I said and winked.
          He started to get his things together. “Mann would have murdered you, you know.”
          “I’m not scared of him.”
          “Your mouth will get you in trouble, one day.”
          “As long as it’s bringing in accounts, I’m willing to bet that my mouth and I will be just fine. It would do you some good to cross a few lines every once in a while. What’s the worst that
could happen, Bobby?”
          “Better safe than sorry.”
          “Better later than now.”
          “That isn’t the saying,” he said.
          “I know. I corrected it,” I said.
          “You aren’t as witty as you think you are, Aurora.”
          “I absolutely am, Bobby. Otherwise, I would have been canned a long time ago.”
          He laughed, and everyone left the room. I put my head down, and a few minutes later, Mann returned to make only one statement:
          “You are very lucky.”
          “I am very aware.”
          I went back to my office in hopes of laying across my comfortable leather couch and sleeping until it was time to go home. I had done enough for the company for one day. Mann had
other people to terrorize. He wouldn‘t bother with me.
          I opened my office door and found Adam sitting in my chair. His legs were crossed on top of the desk, and his eyes were closed. His black bangs were falling across his face, and his arms were folded in his lap. It seemed like he really was asleep, but I knew him better than that.
He had chronic insomnia. Sleeping in the daylight on a desk was impossible for him.
          “Get up,” I said.
          He didn’t respond.
          “I will push you out of it, Marino.”
          He ignored me.
          “Mann is coming.”
          He immediately opened his eyes and stood, knocking several things over in the process.
          “Really?”
          “No. Get out.”
          “Come on, Ari.”
          “Out,” I said and sat behind my desk.
          He went around and stood in front of me. “You’re welcome for the free seat warming.”
          “That’s disgusting.”
          “It’s delightful to see me, I know.”
          “You’re delusional, Adam.”
          “I’m a wonderful sight for sore eyes, Ari.”
          “Oh, I’m sure.”
          “It’s true.”
          Though there appeared to be a certain conceitedness about him, I knew that it was a just façade. He was extremely insecure about himself, particularly his appearance. He wasn’t the best looking man I had ever laid eyes on, but he could have held his own on a dating app.
          “Out of my office,” I said.
          “But it’s exactly where both of us want me to be,” he said.
          “If you say so, then it must be true.”
          “Exactly.” He poked me. “Tell me I’m amazing.”
          “I must not tell lies.”
          Venna came in and gave him a condescending smile. She placed the file in her hand on my desk and looked him up and down.
          “Adam,” Venna said.
          “Satan,” Adam said.
          “Only devil here is you,” said Venna.
          He pulled at one of her curls, and it bounced back into place. “Beg to differ.”
          She slapped his hand down. “Don’t touch me.”
          “Both of you, go away,” I said. “This isn’t even your floor!”
          “But I want to take you out, tonight,” Adam said.
          “She’s busy,” Venna said.
          “With what?” he asked.
          “We have things to do.”
          “Such as?”
          “It isn’t any of your business. Go away, Marino.”
          “You’re just bitter because you only ever have company for a night, Carter.”
          “You’re just bitter because you’re ugly.”
          “If it makes you feel better to lie—”
          Adam was cut off as I dragged him and Venna to my door and pushed them out. I slammed it in their faces and locked it. I heard them continue squabbling for a few more seconds before parting ways and taking off in different directions.

          I threw myself onto my couch and looked up at my ceiling. I replayed the meeting in my head and imagined what Mann would have done if I had failed to land the account. I doubted that he would have fired me over it, but there would have been hell to pay. Many people in the office likely would have enjoyed watching me be put in my place.
          I was one of the few people on this floor who actually had an office. Most of the others just had a cubicle, something that agitated many of the older employees. Venna told me that
there were times after some meetings when they gathered in one of their work spaces and talked about how it was blatant nepotism—I was constantly late and could often be a very lazy worker.
I should not be rewarded for it.
          They weren’t entirely wrong. It was only my overactive imagination and sharp tongue that gave me a paycheck and office that people my age weren’t close to achieving, yet. Much of the time, I did only just enough and often even less, but I was clever enough to convince those
above me that I was more useful than I actually was. I spent my entire life floating and wasting time—an underachiever who relied on commonplace charm to stay favored by the powers that
were.
          I took a piece of paper and a pen from the table next to me and started trying to throw
ideas down. I thought about what I had said about time. I was just making things up as I went along, but as I mulled it over, I realized that my ridiculous sales pitch wasn’t too far away from
the truth.
          I put the pen down and looked over what the paper in my hand. I could be so pretentious sometimes, writing things with highbrow words and flowery language when putting it simply
would have made the same point; but why be Horatio when I could be Hamlet? There was no making it in advertising if I were anything but melodramatic.
          I let my body melt into my couch and drifted off to sleep.