She approached his cubical again. Absent were the rhythmic sounds of his numberpad. Missing was the strange sound of his arhythmic breathing; however, emanations of his presence could be felt. Cold spinal sensations brusqued her core being. What could he possibly be doing?
Her arms stiffened and her hands clasped the parcel she was to deliver. The envelope was eggshell-white, letter-sized, with a pre-printed return address on the back, and quite well-produced; strangely the envelope indicated it originated from the Ugandan embassy. The front was addressed in puce crayon:
To Rutherford C/O Bernard K. Rosenschmidt
She puzzled over his middle initial. For what name does the letter K stand?
She puzzled over why her legs weren't actually motivating her forward.
The problem resolved itself shortly, in its own way, as the room spun down, faster and faster. A slowly spreading ring of blackness rose from the center of her vision, engulfing everything. The vague sensation of acceleration from falling persisted until she again opened her eyes..
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