The powers-that-be shone through the night, a beacon for us weary desk-mongerers who sifted through Outlook for shreds of hope.
Then we just rebooted ourselves. We went home, showered, ate with our families and started up again.
It’s nice when hope visits. Or when you find it hiding in your shoes. Hope has marred the dreary and desolate work–the work that never gets done.
I hope I marry hope. I really hope so.