“Yeah, typical,” she said to no one in particular, as she entered the last room of her day that needed cleaning to find it looking as if it had been ransacked by the CIA, fallen victim to yet another collegiate tsunami.
As she surveyed the wreckage, she knew that she’d never be done in time to make her class at the local community college.
“If only,” she said, shaking her head, as visions of somehow wreaking havoc on those who so thoughtlessly tore through her hometown every March ignited enough of an impetus to begin the work necessary to restore the room to occupancy.
