I’m in the meeting but really I’m rafting naked down the cataracts of my mind, diagnosing myself with cancer, attending a private viewing of my ‘most embarrassing moments’ highlight reel, wondering what happened to the girl who called me, “Betsy Bitch-ards” in middle school. Then they’re all looking at me and I have no fucking clue what’s happening in this room but I take a measured breath and say, “I feel this is part of a higher level conversation we need to have outside of this meeting.” The boss raises an eyebrow, impressed. The sales director nods in vigorous conviction. The event coordinator looks confused for a moment, but quickly twists her expression into one of assent for fear of being seen not-getting-it. I return to my raft. I’m telling you; it works every time.
Emily Baber lives in Cleveland, Ohio and is drawn to Lake Erie, the intricacy of natural systems, and snacks. She is drafting a novel. Twitter: @enemybaber