The Day the Schedule Broke

Take an ordinary moment. Add golden light and dramatic music. Now you've got a movie.

Sandra (not Sandy, Sands or Sando) pushed a stack of papers aside, then cursed as it overbalanced and slipped off her wonky desk in a cascading flurry of individual sheets across the floor.

She leaned across to her left and looked around her desk at the once organised, colour coded, sticky noted, highlighted and marked-up schedule pages currently strewn haphazardly across the tiny area of worn grey carpet not currently stacked with racks of boxes of props and equipment.

Surely the day couldn't get any worse. Could it?