She could do this.A basic audit, just to see what they were working with.It wouldn’t take more than an hour.She wouldn’t commit to anything.She’d just...look.
She opened the laptop again and started typing.By the time the sun started to set, she had three pages of notes.
Target audience profiles.Messaging frameworks.Partnership opportunities.A rough content calendar for a six-week pre-event campaign.
She sat back and looked at the screen.
This was what she did.What she was good at.She took something broken and figured out how to make it work.
Her phone buzzed with a text from the mayor:No pressure, but if you want to sit in on our next planning meeting, it’s Thursday at 10.Bayview General Store back room.Coffee’s on me.
She stared at the message.
She should say no.She should delete it and go back to doing whatever people on mandatory sabbaticals were supposed to do.
But the document on her screen was the first thing she’d felt even remotely competent doing since HR had forced a sabbatical on her.
Winnie’s words about working on someone else’s problem being easier than sitting with your own kept echoing in her head.
She typed a reply:I’ll think about it.
Sent it before she could change her mind.
Then she closed the laptop, walked to the sunroom door, and opened it.
The light was fading and washed the room in soft gold.The chair by the window looked inviting.The bookshelves were full of titles she didn’t recognize.
It still felt like someone else’s space, but maybe that was the point.A new space.
She stepped inside, sat in the chair, and looked out at the water.
