She caught her handbag as it plummeted off her shoulder before the cup of coffee she was holding spilled all over her new suit. It was going to be a good day; that was the best omen she knew, even better than arriving in front of the elevator bank and finding an empty car waiting for her.
She set her cup down on her desk and put her kamikaze purse into her bottom drawer. She lowered herself gratefully into her chair and kicked off her shoes; they were gorgeous, but they pinched. Thank heavens for desks that hid everything from the waist down; her feet could recover while she checked her messages.
She dealt with her email swiftly; the delete key was her friend. Phone messages were a bit stickier; if people actually bothered to call, they usually needed some sort of a response. She was in a race against time to clear them out; her next meeting started in less than an hour. Leaving them for later was not an option. Later, there would be more.