I think maybe I’m finally losing my mind a little bit and I’m sitting here in terminal B with these huge noise-canceling headphones on but there isn’t any music playing because I just need people to leave me alone and not ask me about the quarterly filing or the retreat or anything else. I’ve been the office manager at the same firm for twenty-seven years and I think I’ve spent about twenty-six of those years pretending that I actually care about things like supply chain efficiency and toner cartridges but the truth is I wanted to be a watercolorist and instead I just manage people who are half my age and make twice as much money as I do. I don't know if this counts as a real confession or if I'm just being dramatic but I did something really stupid at the corporate retreat this weekend and now I’m just sitting here waiting for my flight and hoping nobody looks at me too closely because I feel like I have "THIEF" written across my forehead in permanent marker. It started because they had us doing this "visioning" exercise in the hotel ballroom where we were supposed to draw our professional goals for the next decade and they gave us these really nice, expensive professional-grade charcoal sets and heavy paper that I haven't been able to afford for myself in years. I was looking at all these young kids drawing ladders and sunrises and stupid little houses and I just felt this hot flash of something that felt like anger but maybe it was just regret and so when the session was over and everyone went down to the hotel bar for the "Happy Hour Mixer" I didn't go with them. I stayed behind and I stole three of the charcoal sets and about twenty sheets of that thick vellum paper and I hid them in my suitcase under my sensible beige cardigans and I felt like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest but I couldn't stop myself. And then it got worse because I went back to my hotel room and I didn't go to the mandatory dinner because I told them I had a migraine but really I just sat on the floor and drew until three in the morning and I didn't draw a ladder or a sunrise. I drew a picture of our CEO, Mr. Vance, but I made him look like an empty suit with nothing inside of it, just a hollow shell with a tie, and it was the best thing I’ve drawn since I was twenty-two and I felt so proud and so disgusted with myself at the same time. I don't know why I did it and I certainly don't know why I kept it but I didn't want to throw it away because it felt like the only real thing I’ve done in a decade and so I tucked it into the back of my folder. But then this morning during the final "Wrap-Up Session" we had to pass our folders to the person on our left for a peer review and I completely forgot that the drawing was in there and I handed it to Sarah, the new junior associate who is twenty-four and has perfect teeth and thinks I’m just a nice old lady who likes cats. I saw her face go completely pale when she got to the back of my folder and she looked at me and then looked at the drawing and then looked at Mr. Vance who was standing ten feet away and I thought I was going to throw up right there on the patterned hotel carpet. She didn't say anything and she just tucked it back in and handed it back to me at the end of the hour but she hasn't looked at me or spoken to me since and I know she’s going to tell someone because that’s what people like Sarah do. I think maybe I want her to tell someone because then I wouldn't have to keep doing this and I wouldn't have to spend my days making sure there’s enough 2% milk in the breakroom fridge but I’m sixty-one years old and I have four thousand dollars in my savings account and no retirement plan to speak of because I spent all my extra money over the years on art supplies I never used. I’m a coward and a thief and a bitter old woman and I’m sitting here in this airport terminal and I keep thinking about how easy it would be to just not get on the plane but I know I will because I don't have anywhere else to go. I keep looking at Sarah across the gate and she’s on her phone and I keep wondering if she’s typing an email to HR or if she’s just posting a picture of her avocado toast but I’m too chicken to just go over there and ask her. I tried to make a joke about it when we were standing in the security line and I said something like "I guess my creative side got a little out of hand" but she just gave me this pitying look and said "It's fine, Martha" and moved to a different line and I felt about two inches tall. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the "reliable" one and the "supportive" one and now I’m just the weird lady who draws mean pictures of her boss in secret and steals charcoal from a Marriott ballroom. And the worst part is that I don't even feel bad about the stealing part because that company has plenty of money and those markers probably didn't even make a dent in their budget but I feel terrible about the fact that I’m so small-minded and petty after all these years. I thought by this age I’d have some kind of wisdom or at least some kind of peace but I’m just as messy and confused as I was when I was twenty and the only difference is that now I have back pain and a mortgage. I don't know if I'm looking for someone to tell me it's okay or if I just want someone to admit that they're also pretending to be a person when they're really just a collection of missed opportunities and stolen office supplies. I just heard them announce my boarding group and I have to get up and walk past Sarah and get on that plane and go back to my house where I’ll probably just hide those charcoal pencils in a drawer and never use them because I’ll be too afraid of what I might draw next. I’ll go into the office on Monday and I’ll order more coffee pods and I’ll ask Mr. Vance how his weekend was and I’ll pretend like I didn't spend three hours rendering the hollowness of his soul in high-quality charcoal. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up and I think maybe I'm hoping I get fired so I don't have to make the choice myself but I know I'm too good at my job for that to happen and that’s probably the saddest part of this whole thing.