Sitting at the window with her morning cup, she made herself a concise list of all that needed to be done. Somewhere between there and her desk, she lost the list.

Things came upon her then, as they pleased, all in a flurry — broken things, and things needing delicate answers, especially considering the state of the broken things, also a few onerous past due and unforgiving number sort of things, and something that clicked in an annoying fashion, and a thing that wouldn't go, and a thing that spilled, and one smiling colleague with a shock in his handshake.

Through it all, the only thing she could see with any clarity were the leaves the wind kept flicking up against the glass, and it occurred to her that perhaps the time had come for a change.