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I waited that evening for Ralph to call, in part to relieve my anxiety and in part to give me a break from squinting and stacking paper, but the phone never rang. The next morning, I gathered up my pile of binder-clipped papers and headed to the office supply store to make Dr. Finch’s background packs. It felt good to drive again, even if my eyes were still a little angry. It was early, but the copy staff were already pretty slammed with other orders. Since I needed my volumes bound by noon, I went to work on the photocopies myself.
Half an hour later, I’d finished collating and handed off the stacks of copies for binding, just in time to avoid a photocopier-induced seizure. (That sliding line of light is so mesmerizing, I can’t look away.) I’d just dropped the final stack on the glas
