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Sean rushed to work Friday morning. He had an 8:00 a.m. meeting with David his boss and Ron David's boss. He'd worked all evening to finish his design doc. There'd also been Kelly from match dot com and they had their hook-up last night at 10. Lasted almost two hours. Great lay and he got out by midnight. Sean functioned pretty well on six hours' sleep. He had to because his days were always jam-packed with Things To Do.

There'd been the gym after work, an everyday ritual. Yesterday had been back and biceps. Lately he'd been doing push-me, pull-you workouts. First day the "push" exercises, which meant chest, shoulders, triceps. Second day the "pull" exercises, which meant back and biceps. Third day meant legs. He didn't know whether that counted as a push or as a pull. He liked to mix up his workouts. After a few months, the routines bored him. He had to change them around because otherwise he'd go nuts for the two hours he spent there, six days every week. Most weeks it was seven. Had to -- at 48 he had to keep up with the younger guys. How else would he ever win over women from his Internet pick-up sites?

His cell rang as he made his way down the 101 to Mountain View. He recognized the number. "God, no, why's she calling right now?" Guilt twinged his nose and ears so he answered the cell. Esther Moran, his next-door neighbor, probably asking him to fix his computer. What would it be this time, her printer's jammed? She was always bugging him. Didn't she realize how busy he was, how important his life was? Even if she was an 82-year old widow with diabetes, back problems, and a walker whose only son had died ten years ago, did she have to depend on him for computer tasks? His job, the gym, his Internet dating sites -- that's where he wanted to spend his time.

"Hi, Esther, I'm on my way to work right now. What would you like?" He dreaded her answer and estimated how much of his time her call and her request would consume. God, he hoped it wouldn't be more than fifteen minutes. That's all the time he had to spare for Esther Moran. She might adore him and might be leaving the bulk of her San Francisco Chronicle fortune to him, but did she have to put such demands on his time?

"Sweetheart, I'm not calling for a thing. I just wanted to say good morning and hope you have a good day! You're such a special person, I just wanted you to know that."

She didn't want anything? She wasn't after my time? He felt terrible -- even stunned, so stunned he didn't see the truck broadside him on the driver's side. He woke up 3 weeks later in a body cast. NOW he had time.