Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
I turned the laptop back around.
The blank page was still blank.
The cursor sat under the word strategist and didn’t move, and the little battery icon in the corner had gone red and thin.
It said fourteen percent, and there was no charger in the car.
The battery icon went amber at 12:14, and the résumé template still held nothing but a blinking cursor.
Marlene came around with the pot and didn’t wait to be asked.