Corbet smiled and rubbed his hands together. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning. He looked at the treasures on his desk, picking up the portfolio and looking over the sketches. He shrugged and tossed them on the floor. Then he turned his attention to the briefcase. He pushed the buttons on the latches and opened the top and began to shuffle around inside. He found the usual assortment of pens, pencils and papers, but then he felt something smooth and hard. He picked up the stone and stared at it. He held it up to the light and squinted as he looked through it.
“A rock?” he said out loud to himself, “A freakin’ rock. Did this one fall out of your head when you were leaning over the briefcase, Tom? Why in the world would you be carrying a rock in your briefcase?”
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