Recording to me

Previously

…She replied with a thumbs-up emoji. I closed my phone and looked out the window. The maple tree was almost bare now, its leaves scattered across the courtyard. Winter was coming. But the Practical Idealists had found their warmth. I opened my journal and wrote: "Chapter 19: The Presentation Plan. Nine days of preparation, one final rehearsal. The script is tight, the data is solid, the team is ready. Tomorrow we stand before the city council—and the internet. The ideal donkihot, stepping into the light. Let's see if the world is ready for us." I closed the journal. The windmills were still out there. But this time, we weren't tilting at them. We were building with them.