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From Writing to Fighting: Coaching a Colleague

It’s 8 a.m. and I’m looking up at the stop light, lightly tapping on the steering wheel as I wait for it to turn green.

I’m on the same exact trip I had roughly a year ago, but things certainly feel a lot different this time around. I stop tapping my fingers, only now realizing that I have been fidgety and tense since I woke up.

I don’t want them to notice this, so I decide to just start a conversation.

“How much do you weigh now?” I ask Milan, who is sitting in the backseat.