There after exactly thirty-six hours of a great deal of consideration, I wrote the email to Marsh with a little aggressiveness in the night of evocative darkness. To my astonishment, the instant he entered the hall the next morning, he waved and howled and glared at all of the offi ce staff for an immediate offi cial meeting. It was a wave and a howl and a glare like no other waves and no other howls and no other glares. And that meeting was a meeting of history, a meeting of change about everything, including me. No one was daring to utter a word while sitting around the oval desk and waiting for him in damned silence. Feeling the absolute stillness freezing the air, I visualized a dramatically beautiful scene of the brightest star growing in the shape of a bullet and dancing in a complex line across one heart to another. The moment his appearance merged with an overly masterful fl ag of authority, I wished for the most disastrous earthquake to come, to kill and to bury us all at once. His entirely new face was cocked among the lowered heads in the formation of a dead circle and broke in with an entirely new name of Vice General Manager. Taking his seat as a throne, that face was free to condense everyone’s curiosity to know the point of the meeting, except for me. Showing the greater power in his presence, he dismissed the formation right after he fi nished his exact speech: