Chris snapped back to reality, his daydream cut off like a tap, as he realized that he had stopped typing. Nobody did that. Chris dismissed his colleague with a casual headache and began to type again. As his fingers ran on autopilot, he tentatively stepped back into the mental hurricane that he had been so abruptly pulled from. What if he could leave? What if he did? Then the doubts crept up like a weed in the jungle of these new possibilities he had opened. Money, food, wife, taxes, all problems that would be hurdles toward his happiness. They would be dealt with when they became relevant. And with that idea, he stopped typing. Looked around at his computer, cubicle, coworkers, lights, and carpet. Listened to the air conditioning and the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead, and he made a decision. Chris stood