Spitball Army

We waited and waited for Tamra to wriggle free from her desk, but the phone kept ringing and people kept asking her questions and bringing her paperwork.  So, we escaped for a quick lunch without her.  When we returned, this little post-it note was affixed to my computer screen.

Tamra died of starvation.

Here are her bones.

It read like a Victorian gravestone.  And Tamra was nowhere to be found.