I park the Versa, crack the window, and wait. Inside, a participant sits through another appointment. Forty minutes pass. Maybe an hour. I don’t know what happens behind those doors. I only know my job: be here when the door opens.

She walks out tired. She scans the lot. Then she spots me, and her shoulders drop an inch.

That inch matters.

Leadership lives here, in the Versa’s driver’s seat. It looks like the same car waiting in the same spot. People carry heavy things into their appointments. Someone needs to wait outside for them. Today, I get to be that someone.