My heart racing, I clutch the desk and survey the damage. I had overturned Mary's neat, neglected stack of reports in my panic. When Wayne got back up here, I was going to have to have a word with him about appropriate, professional conduct. One does not go blowing things up when one is below the Archives department. What if the small quake had knocked over a filing cabinet? I was sweeping all the papers up into one heap, calculating the number of hours Wayne's mishap was adding to my schedule, when the hateful assistance button began to beep. Fuming, I storm off to the elevator.
