As Press Secretary, CJ had spent so much of her day giving and receiving orders while on the move. Walking while talking had become second nature.
After three weeks on the job, she'd started to dream in motion. After six months, she'd grown impatient with the rest of her life. She craved smooth, synchronous movement.
Why couldn't every relationship be an easy coming together and a natural drifting apart, all while communicating just enough to be understood and not too much to complicate matters?
When she was appointed Chief of Staff, the amount of hallway slaloming had decreased. Now, people came to her: staffers, elected officials, foreign dignitaries.
But time, time continued to move at the speed of a hurried walk. Fielding questions, dodging answers, delivering orders...
everything she said and did was pressing, urgent, and made her feel as if she was careening through the halls of the west wing, on wheels and wearing a crash helmet.
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