- “Hello,” Harold said, knocking on the wooden desk varnished to a shine. A blonde administrative assistant popped up like a mole. Quite a charming mole. She was young, pretty, and though wearing a dark, professional blouse, she had a cleavage that could lift anyone’s spirit in these trying times.
- I’m here to see...” Harold stopped himself. Seeing wasn’t the right word when talking about an urn with your coworker’s ashes inside. “I’m here to pay my respects to Dean Laurier.”
- Of course, I’m sorry for your loss.” The girl put an elegantly manicured hand to her ample chest and warmed Harold’s heart with a look of sincere condolence. This cannot be an easy job for someone with a compassionate soul, Harold thought. “Mr. Laurier is in exposition hall B, which is here on your right.”