Gary stared at the dripping faucet, its rhythmic drip-drip-drip echoing like a metronome of despair. ‘This is the worst,’ he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. The puddle on the floor grew, a small lake of frustration.
‘I am capable,’ he said, voice shaky. The faucet continued dripping. ‘I am resilient.’ Still dripping. ‘I am a master plumber!’ The faucet sputtered, then sprayed a geyser into his face.
Gary coughed, sputtering. ‘Okay, maybe I need a new approach.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I am calm. I am… I am…’ The faucet stopped. Silence. He blinked. ‘Did that just…?’
The next day, the faucet dripped again. Gary sighed. ‘I am… a better listener.’ The faucet gurgled, then stopped. He grinned. ‘Okay, maybe affirmations are magic.’
