<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Master Lea on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/master-lea/</link><description>Recent content in Master Lea on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 12 Aug 2002 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/master-lea/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The FAX</title><link>/stories/2002/08/12/the-fax/</link><pubDate>Mon, 12 Aug 2002 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2002/08/12/the-fax/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;She lay motionless, listening, trying to sense if the small noise she
heard was the door. Her mind was racing, had she forgotten to lock
the door, was this one of her greatest fears?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;This all started with that FAX. He had called her at the office
this morning and told her she had better get to the FAX machine before
anyone else and hung up; she immediately knew why and literally ran (which
wasn&amp;rsquo;t easy in 4&amp;rsquo;&amp;rsquo; high heels) across the office. The machine had
already churned out one page and continued to print. Three handwritten
pages finally were printed before the machine stopped. Vicki the
office busy body and resident bitch walked up to her coffee in hand and
said, &amp;lsquo;&amp;rsquo;that must be an important FAX; the way you busted your ass to get
over here to pick it up.&amp;rsquo;&amp;rsquo; Her mind raced quickly for an answer,
yes, this was the information she had needed for three days to finish a
project. She turned in her heels and walked away before the bitch
could say another word.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>