What would I pack, if I only had moments? Each instant a panoply of choices, laboring through nightmarish voices and priority schemes, could I arrive at what I need? Yes. Them. But, God, would I even remember to take water for my toddler? What comforts would I forsake for my son? What curses would I utter in those desperate, teflon seconds as the mystery of every unforeseen heartbreak pressed in at the speed of terminal velocity? Less time than I have to read this: Run!
