I have spent the latter half of my workday working over apology after apology in my head, lest I repeat what I did last time and drool like a slobbering moron. It’s 4:15 when I get a text messages that reads, I’m downstairs.
I bounce in alarm, a sudden fire is under my butt, but I don’t know what to do about it. Stop, drop, and roll? Call for help? Nine-one-one, what is your emergency? There’s a bombshell downstairs, and I’m about to explode!
In case of emergency, the first thing to do is grab my purse and nothing else, then evacuate the building. I leave my jacket and sweaters behind and kick off my indoor shoes to be replaced by my outdoor ones.
Ami gives me a passing thumbs up as I scurry to the elevators.
The elevator ride is a blur. All I notice is my thumping heartbeat in my ches
