The first day after was the hardest. The questions kept lurching towards me like a swinging punching bag filled with sand. I bobbed and weaved as quickly as possible. I threw my left jab out to keep us apart. I answered the hard swings with a right cross, putting my weight behind it, swiveling my hips, keeping my head low and protected from the next one.
Confessions of a Failed Entrepreneur
I’m laid flat on my back on the fake wood floor in the middle of our office staring up at the disgusting ceiling fan that hasn’t been cleaned in over a year, watching a large clump of dust spin around and around, gathering momentum, teetering further to the edge by the second. I have a deep sense that when it falls, it will fall directly on my face, because that’s just my luck these days, and I wont be able to do a thing about it: I literally cannot move.