The Unfolding of Sarah

Previously

…“Indeed, Sarah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Indeed.” As Sarah turned and walked back towards her office, the sterile hum of the fluorescent lights seemed a little less oppressive. The weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter. The boardroom might demand precision, but her life, her wonderfully messy, rhyme-filled life, was unfolding in its own beautiful, chaotic way. And perhaps, just perhaps, even Mr. Abernathy understood more than he let on. The stern gaze, she realized, might just hold a hint of a secret smile, a silent acknowledgment of the spirited felines, the burnt toast, and the unexpected poetry that made life truly worth writing about.