My childhood.
The current year.
Recent news.
Medication schedules.
Why I had chosen certain investments.
What I would do if someone offered me a clearly unfavorable contract.
At one point she asked me to remember five words.
I remembered four.
Twenty minutes later, three.
I hated every second of it.
“You’re frustrated,” she observed.
“I built a company with thirty-eight thousand employees and now I’m failing a grocery-list exercise.”
She smiled gently.
“This is not an exam you pass by being impressive.”
I almost smiled.
“That may be the first test in my life where that is true.”
Later, she asked about Daniel.
I gave her the angry version first.
Then she waited.
Eventually, I gave her the honest one.
Daniel had always been the careful brother.
I was the one who took risks.
When we were boys, I jumped from the roof of our garage because I believed an umbrella would slow my fall.
