Do you remember the first time you tried to hold your breath? You were a child and you were having fun. You filled lungs with as much air as possible, filled your cheeks and counted to sixty. I played that game too, and I still smile when I think about it. But today everything changed, and I’m afraid. Ever since I was named to a management position in the huge company I work for a few days ago, someone or something is preventing me from breathing when I try to fill my lungs. An invisible hand presses my chest or pinches my nose, ensuring that not a single oxygen molecule feeds my body. Any semblance of life is out of the question now. And even though I’m not dead yet, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.