The water ring was engraved into her desk like a grunge tattoo on a biker, ready to greet its favorite mug promptly at 7:16 a.m. Steam escaped the mug and crept up the window, creating undesirable dusty drops of rain. Her daze carried her through the window, out to the Autumn Sage wilting in the sun. Although the beautiful flowers were on their way out of this world, her favorite hummingbird still found hope and reprieve among them, waving its brilliant translucent wings in the wind, expectedly flittering from branch to branch as it searched for a morning snack. She could feel it. Change was coming quicker than the hummingbird could fly off into the distance. She craved the stability offered by the ring on her desk and the wilting flowers she had been too busy to water. Even though she felt the pressure of change lurking, creating the dreaded sensation of someone sneaking up behind her waiting to pounce, she sat silently, counting the limited blades of grass in her front weed patch.