It’s after twelve. My head is a little woozy and stuffy as it’s ridiculously hot in the office now, stiflingly so, and it’s making me feel nauseous. I’ve called maintenance twice to find out why they still haven’t fixed the AC; it’s blowing out tropical heat rather than cold air and it’s baking us all. My face is flaming and my pulse is beating so fast and hard like I’ve been sprinting. My clothes are clinging to me with dampness, and I’m irritated because of the inability to breathe or find relief. It’s oppressive.

Margo has left for lunch and I’m to follow on her return. She was wavering in...