She was gone.
He sat down, opened the next ticket—a student who’d spilled sweet tea on her laptop—and replied: Have you tried turning it off and on again?
"Where in Bishop Hall?" he asked.
Jordan didn’t ask who built it. He took out his screwdriver—the old one—and carefully, gently, nudged the gear back into place.
She was gone.
He sat down, opened the next ticket—a student who’d spilled sweet tea on her laptop—and replied: Have you tried turning it off and on again?
"Where in Bishop Hall?" he asked.
Jordan didn’t ask who built it. He took out his screwdriver—the old one—and carefully, gently, nudged the gear back into place.