When I realized this was as far as I could get toward a vision for the future, I sat up straighter in the plastic seat and felt for a moment the ominous tickle of intuition: Whatever it was I had, there was a pretty high chance I was squandering it. My small portion of beauty, my small portion of mind. Then again, I felt sure that I was drinking to the final drop from that last precious bottle, time. And what person, if they had already determined where it was they wanted to end up, could honestly say they were milking their portion of time for everything it had to give?
