The Paperchase
I had to attend a meeting today. As I got out of the car, I lost my grip on my paperwork. A gust of wind caught it, scattering the pages under a large van. The only way to retrieve them was to clamber underneath—despite the car park being extremely muddy.
Having rescued most of the papers, I stood up—straight into the wing mirror, shoulder-first. One sheet was still out of reach. I stumbled around to the front of the van and bent down to try to grab it. I couldn’t reach.
I uprooted a nearby weed—essentially a dry stalk—showering myself in soil in the process. One nudge at a time, I edged the paper closer. As the wind picked up again, I quickly grabbed the now mud-smeared page.
I entered the office with soil in my hair and mud on my knees. As I sat down, the guy asked, ‘Any trouble getting here?’
I just slid the paperwork to him and said, ‘Sorry about the mud.’
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