At 6:12 on a freezing, gray February morning, I was already sitting in my car outside my office building in downtown Seattle.
The heater blew lukewarm air at my numb hands. The traffic lights changed over empty, rain-slicked intersections. I adjusted my tie in the rearview mirror, staring at the reflection of a thirty-eight-year-old man who had learned how to function without ever feeling fully awake. My passenger seat was littered with financial reports. My calendar was a solid wall of obligations.
