“He said the business was in crisis, and if I didn’t show, I’d be losing what little I own. Perhaps I could help rectify things before—” he hesitates, then stops altogether.
“Before what?” I finally have to ask.
“Before Dana throws the whole blasted thing away. I think that’s what he said.”
“What! I am not throwing the whole blasted thing away. The gall of the man.” I’m functional again, hopping mad, storming to my office, before I remember that the papers and my briefcase are strewn across the floor. I turn around, dropping to my knees to pick up the mess, fuming the entire time, red-faced and blushing like an unmasked thief.
I have no appreciation for sanity now, but I’m so embarrassed by the silly incident that I march into my office and slam the door.
After the storm of sound,
