“Ms Higurashi.”
The hassled woman switched her gaze upwards to meet the impassive eyes of her editor-in-chief, her fingers freezing mid-type at the decidedly unimpressed slant of his eyebrows as he frowned down at her over the chipboard divide of her cubicle. He was not happy, Kagome usefully concluded. But why? Her attention was caught by the piece of paper in his hand as her prematurely aged boss dropped it onto her desk, a neat red circle of red pen the only addition she could see on the article she’d rushed through to press earlier.
“You meant ‘sickle’, I believe.”