CHAPTER 7

　　Shane Michaels walked briskly into his art gallery, barely responding to the greetings thrown his way. There was one thing on his mind, and that was Peach. It puzzled him how incensed he'd gotten this past week. It wasn't his nature to run after people he'd met once.

　　Yet, he had gone after Peach like a man crazed. That was the only way he knew how to explain his irrational response. Various artefacts and graphic arts peered up at him from their respective spots on the black and cream blended walls. He ignored them. They were not Peach and could not hold his interest at the moment.

　　He swung open the glass door that led to his cubicle. He called it just that because it was created and styled to look like one. He absently pulled his suit jacket off, tossing it on the nearest armchair to his right. His eyes were fixed on the covered board that sat in the centre of the room. He imagined that it begged for his attention.