A Clean Slate

Rachel didn't stop driving until she had gotten half-way across town. The power in the notebook, the power its previous owner had displayed, was terrifying. By the time Rachel had reached her car, her adrenaline had spiked, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Every man she saw on the sidewalk became a possible attacker. She'd never been so glad to get into her car and lock the doors.

Once she was convinced that she hadn't been followed, Rachel pulled her blue Civic over to the side of the road, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. That was what her mother had taught her; when things get overwhelming, just remember to breath. Rachel's mother had been an inspiration for her, a legal aid lawyer, a civil rights activist, a leader in the community. When she died three years earlier of leukemia, Rachel's heart had broken. She was too young to not have her mother, her north star, in her life. Her mother was her sounding stone. If Rachel didn't have her mother, how would she know what the right course would be for her life?

She opened her eyes and looked down at the notebook sitting on the passenger seat. Rachel knew that it must be her imagination, but it felt like she could feel the power of the book thrumming next to her. With her mother gone, Rachel had to find her own way. With the notebook, she could make more impact than her mother ever did.

With a smile, she picked up the notebook, flipping it open to the page that held the only rule.

Old Rule: The dress code requires female employees to be topless at all times

Picking up the pencil, she turned it over and erased the rule, already feeling empowered, already knowing that she had made the world better for so many women. She even erased the name of the coffee shop, feeling like she had emancipated the slaves. Rachel wasn't there, but she knew that back at the cafe, women suddenly would have found themselves wearing their bras and shirts, never having known any different. It felt good.

It felt better than good. It felt great. It felt wonderful. It was the kind of feeling she could get used to.

Then, turning the pencil over so that the lead hovered over the paper of the notebook, Rachel thought of where to start her changes. What organization, what company, what institution should she change in order to save the world from itself? How would she make the world better for womankind?