Marla stood in the grocery store aisle, her cart a rogue spaceship spinning out of control. ‘I am calm,’ she whispered, as a box of cereal launched itself into the air. ‘I am organized,’ she declared, while a bag of chips exploded from the shelf. The cashier, eyes locked on her chaos, muttered, ‘You okay?’ Marla grinned, dodging a flying granola bar. ‘I am capable!’ she yelled over the din, as her cart careened into a display of pickles. The aisle fell silent. ‘…You sure about that?’ the cashier asked. Marla paused, then nodded. ‘Absolutely. I am resilient.’ The pickles tumbled like confetti.
