At 7:02 a.m., Charlotte tramples down the stairs with her scarf swinging wildly around her neck, belt not even through the last loop yet. Her mind, racing as fast as her heart, scrambles to remember where she put her car keys. She loses herself in the bottomless pit that’s her black bag, searching and searching. She rummages through the kitchen drawers, checks the bowl by the entryway, swipes her hands along every countertop in sight, all to no avail.
Now, she’s ten minutes late.
