Marla stretched her arms skyward, chanting, “I am graceful,” as she tiptoed across the office lobby. Her colleagues watched, transfixed, as she balance-poled a file folder between her teeth. “I am confident,” she declared, leaping over a stack of chairs. The chair legs wobbled. Marla landed face-first in a potted fern. “Wait,” she mumbled, dirt caking her glasses. “Maybe I need more practice.” The fern rustled, unimpressed.
