ref: a00feb029ddcea6188f4324169e5f2b6a389de4e
dir: /troff/_-0505.ms/
.PP .ps 10 When Geo tried again to make things right he took along the boombox. It was already falling apart, having been dropped several times on previous excursions. This time he clamped it tight to his shoulder and tried to keep his balance. .PP .ps 10 The cassette door was long gone, victim of a prior fall. Even though he remained upright, somehow the cassette itself was falling apart. One of its reels rolled across the sidewalk, unwinding a long trail of brown tape. "Type one," Geo said, reflexively. .PP .ps 10 He bent down to scoop up the loose tape and the boombox tipped, ejecting the other reel from the now fully disintegrated cassette. Both halves of its plastic shell clattered noisily to the ground. He set down the boombox and without prompting its battery compartment popped open, dislodging two D batteries, which likewise rolled away form him in opposite directions. .PP .ps 10 Geo still wore his old green Vans everywhere he went, even though he never skated anymore. They seemed to be the only shoes that really fit his odd\-shaped feet. People in the board room always said they clashed with his suit, but what did they know? Hand't he build this company without even wearing pants? .PP .ps 10 He would sit at the head of the big conference table, the one painted with his logo, and preside over the day\-to\-day operations of his company. Now, he was regional. Now, he was national. Now, he was global. .PP .ps 10 Now, he didn't care. .PP .ps 10 "We've the money," the man who was always dressed in brown, like a UPS driver, said. "You've the goods?" .PP .ps 10 "Of course," Geo said, smiling again. He found that he didn't even \fIwant\fR to stop. .PP .ps 10 Business.