Recording to me

Previously

…“Okay,” I said. “I'll prep a press kit with Aldonza. And a one-page summary for the journalist.” “That's the spirit. See you tomorrow at the café?” “Yes. I'm meeting a potential facilitator at 11.” “Perfect. Let's keep building.” I hung up and stared at the email again. The 20th was twelve days away. There was still so much to do. But for the first time, I felt less like Don Quixote charging alone and more like the conductor of an orchestra—each instrument finding its note, the symphony taking shape. Outside, the night was quiet. The windmill in my mind still turned, but its blades caught the moonlight, casting shadows that looked almost like a path.