Celeste caught sight of Larry just as he was stepping out of the elevator. She had a file tucked neatly under his arm.
She quickened her pace, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor as she rushed towards him, without caring about the weight of the thick folder in her hands pressing into her side.
"Umm, I have some questions, Mr. Larry," she called after him, breathless but steady.
She had waited an hour for him to arrive and it delayed her a little from finishing earlier as she should have.
Larry didn't slow. His tall frame cut through the bustling corridor, purposeful and detached. The scent of his cologne—dry cedar with an edge of pepper—trailed faintly in the air. It was crisp against the hum of printers and distant phone chatter.
