Annakitty August's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

Annakitty arrived at the board meeting with her report tucked under her arm and her stomach tight with nerves. Five board members sat around the table, their faces blank as she explained her budget improvements. She showed them the colored charts, the spending patterns, the fifteen percent savings. One member glanced at his watch. Another shuffled papers. When she finished, the oldest board member leaned forward. "This is adequate work for an assistant," he said. "But lead bookkeepers need to manage people, not just numbers. You work alone in that back office. How do we know you can handle a team?" The question hit her like cold water. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She had no answer because she had never led anyone. The meeting ended with polite nods and no promises. Walking back through the laboratory halls, Annakitty realized she had been building the wrong skills all along. She left through the side entrance and found herself outside the Career Hall of Success. The building where she had studied those budget displays now felt like a place that belonged to other people. An ancient stone column stood near the entrance, its top broken off and roots threading through cracks in its base. Time had worn it down to something less than what it had been. She stopped and stared at the weathered stone. Even structures built to last could crumble. Near the steps sat a stone urn tangled with thorny vines, the plants choking what had once been decorative. The thorns had won. The town square felt too busy, but she walked through it anyway. A desk stood in the open area—polished wood with carved drawers and ink bottles arranged on its surface. People lined up to review public records and correct official documents. A merchant argued with a clerk about a shipping error while others waited their turn. These were people managing mistakes in front of everyone, fixing problems they had not caused. Annakitty watched them work through disagreements and corrections without hiding in back offices. Her technical skills meant nothing if she could not handle people watching her stumble. She returned to the laboratory and sat at her desk in the empty back office. Her filing systems were perfect. Her ledgers balanced to the penny. None of it mattered because she had taught herself to work alone. The board member's words repeated in her head—adequate work for an assistant. She pulled out a blank sheet of paper and stared at it. Learning to lead people would mean leaving this quiet space where she controlled everything. It would mean making mistakes in front of others and trusting them with work she could do better herself. Her paw hovered over the paper, then she set down her pen. She did not know how to start.