Gary stared into the mirror, reciting, “I am confident.” His reflection blinked back, unimpressed. Undeterred, he marched into the grocery store, shouting, “I am confident!” The cashier paused. Gary nodded, chest puffed. “I am confident,” he repeated, as he dropped his wallet. The cashier snorted. Gary grinned. “I am confident,” he said, bending to retrieve it—only to trip over a banana peel. The store erupted in laughter. Gary stood, brushing off his pants. “I am confident,” he declared, as he walked into a shopping cart. The crowd cheered. “Resilient!” someone yelled. Gary nodded, muttering, “I am confident,” while dodging a flying cereal box. The cashier handed him a bag. “Here you go, sir,” she said, eyes wide. Gary smiled. “I am confident,” he said, exiting, only to trip again. The crowd roared. “That’s dedication!” they shouted. Gary grinned, brushing dirt off his shirt. “I am confident,” he whispered, as a delivery drone crashed into him. The crowd erupted. “Unstoppable!” they yelled. Gary blinked, then said, “I am confident,” as the drone’s pizza landed on his head.
