I entered the drawing room. Mr. St. James and Ms. Moreau were gone. Mrs.Sweet and Miss Backstitch remained. I curtsied. "You rang, ma'am?" Yes, Lisa,"...Mrs. Sweet said. "Miss Backstitch and you will remain heretonight. I'll need both of you in the morning. Miss Backstitch will usethe guest suite, and you can sleep in the trundle under the bed. Pleasetidy up in here and take yourself to bed. I'll ask my Yvette to findnightwear for both of you." Yes, ma'am," I said. "May I ask a question?"She. It was the same every day, in every parking lot I could see from my 16th story office window. It’s always a small joy to watch how dangerously fast these people leave their day jobs. Three more emails and then I’ll leave.THUD!The sound was all too familiar. I instantly recognized it as the violent sound of a stack of paperwork impacting my desk at high velocity. I glanced from my computer screen for a quick moment to see what bullshit just became my responsibility at the end of the day. I. More

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