O n the morning of my dad’s death ten years ago, it took me ten minutes to choose what to wear, toast a blueberry waffle, and pour chai into a thermos. It took ten minutes to drive myself to school and choose a spot in the parking lot designated for high school seniors, a cohort that I finally belonged to. Within the next ten minutes, I opted to leave my umbrella in my car and arrived at calculus class with damp hair. Each of these quick decisions unfolded in the same amount of time it likely