Mickey throws the pen over his shoulder without effort or care. He doesn’t bother watching as it sails across the kitchen, getting tangled in the pull-chain of the ceiling fan and turning it off. Nor does he notice when it flips wildly out of the chain's grip to clack against the wall and nudge the crooked picture of his 4 year old niece into a straightened position. And he doesn’t pay attention as the pen completes its journey with a perfect landing into the ornate pen holder his wife bought him for their 16th wedding anniversary. Mickey turns, pulling his jacket off the back of his kitchen chair, twirling it lightly while putting his left arm through the sleeve. The empty right sleeve swings in a downward whirl and flicks off the kitchen light switch. He pushes his right arm through the sleeve then exits his house through the front door. He turns and pulls his keys from his jacket pocket, choosing the house key on first grasp, and inserts it flawlessly into the lock to slide the deadbolt across. As his arm is at a 90° angle to lock the front door, the morning paper lands squarely in the crux of his forearm, not startling him in the slightest. The paper also lands with the perfect amount of pressure on his car key to auto start his brand new Nissan Z, which he won in a mall raffle last week.