Book 1 Website Chapters 1-2

He looks up and smiles, like a playful kid brother, but an only child. He clears
his throat, “It looks like Elaine is keeping you busy, as always. Do you ever take
time for lunch?”
Hands clenched in my lap, I swallow and shake my head.
He scans back to me, straightens, “Alright. Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to
work then. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He waits. I nod and turn to my PC.
Opening the package, I set the granola bars side-by-side on the napkin,
sweep away the little crumbs and the thoughts of Navy. I snap the bar in half,
new crumbs born. I don’t care what the themes of Navy’s personal wheel are; it
must be miserable inside his head. Typical man, born in a world with no limits on
his capabilities, no invisible walls of stereotypes and judgments. I bite down on
the granola bar. He will not derail my focus. Let him figure out his issues. Jock.
Fidgeting in my seat, I contemplate how to condense the BSL sales proposal,
meant for a two-day meeting, down to only five slides. The Berkeley meeting
resumes across the hall; I lean my door and dial in.
Slide two complete, I pause in my revenge fantasies. Who in their right mind
feels joy talking about transfer protocols and switching systems? Are all these
people compromising their Creative Gift for the guarantee of a paycheck?
Resting my chin, I think about Alison’s Gift, how she’s doing after Navy’s
patriarchal, ego-driven performance. I kick him from my thoughts.
Chin resting forty minutes later. I think of a tailor. Did the person who made
Navy’s suit know their Gift as a child, captivated by the color or texture of thread?
Or did their Creative Gift develop over time and they fit it into the talent set of a
The Rules of Life by Melissa Abbott-Cooke. Contact: Melissa@therulesoflifebook.com 615-669-5643 25