Lab Rat
‘I’d like to propose a toast, if I may.’ Ansel Kendrick was tapping on his glass. Ansel’s barber was not an uncommon sight on the elevator. No doubt, she had been there today. The edge of his combed gray hair was razor sharp. One button held the coat of his charcoal suit across his trim abdomen. I was loathed to admit that Ansel had charisma to go with the suit, had there been a fire, everyone in the room would have followed him to the exit of his choosing. Not surprising, for he was CEO of...