She had a bad day on a Friday and she did not tell anyone about it.
It was not a work bad day. The work was fine, the work was actually good, the contingency model had been approved and the Harken final review had gone well and she had handled three separate scheduling crises before noon with the calm efficiency that had become her baseline. The bad day was the other kind, the personal kind, the kind that arrived without warning and lived in the chest rather than the mind.
It was the anniversary of her grandmother's death. She had known it was coming, had known all week, and she had been managing it in the practical way she managed most things, keeping busy, staying focused, not giving it more room than it needed. She had done this successfully for three years and she was doing it succes
