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WENDY HAULED her tired body out of bed and stood swaying over her slippers in the dark, 4:30 am bedroom. She wondered why she had even bothered to go to bed. Scratching the rat’s nest on her head she thought, “Must have been close to midnight when I finished that report.”
Her left big toe caught the back of the slipper and she shoved her foot into it. Her right foot patted the rug, but came up bare so she swung out her arm to find the lamp beside the bed. Light stung her sore, sleep-deprived eyes. Her brain had spent a good percentage of the last four hours running through the finished report, which was tucked in her work bag. The presentation was first thing that morning.
First thing for the boss being somewhere around 10:30. There was still plenty of time for a hot shower and to stew over her words, fuss with the choices of clothes to wear and to hope that the weather co-ordinated with her choice. There was even time for a bite to eat before dashing off for the go train.
Finally, at work, Wendy realized she had 40 minutes before her presentation and she had already reviewed her notes, swilled back four cups of coffee and felt sorta prepared. Mildly confident even. So, with 40 minutes, she decided to steal a few moments to use the washroom. Sitting on the hard seat, Wendy closed her eyes.
“Just for a moment,” she told herself. “Just for a moment.”
“It’s almost 11,” the boss asked, drumming his stubby fingers on the oak tabletop. “Anyone know where Wendy is?”