I pulled one wider and stepped in.

The receptionist looked up from her desk and pressed a button under the counter.

Through the glass wall of the boardroom, Brenda Prescott sat at the head of a polished table with a silver pen in her hand.

A broker in a blue suit pointed at a line on the page.

Dustin Miller stood by the window, bouncing on his heels.

The clock over the door read twelve forty.