twenty-threeAnother Friday morning. Robin was in her everyday, morning panic. When she dashed through the orange-carpeted living room, she was already smoking her fourth cigarette. She envied Zumpo as he snored away under the spotless, aluminum ping-pong table. He was like a child, or so she imagined, unconcerned with workaday things like bosses and buses. The simple thought of those two evils made her run double-quick and fly down the concrete stairs impervious to the dangers of the plunging elevator shaft.
Outside, the Troll shouted his usual threats, but she was out of breath and had to slow down to a walk. The only thing that kept her going these days—grinding her life away in a paper mine—was the promise of a week long vacation scheduled to start on Monday. She didn’t have enough mon
