He reached for the chart but she snatched it from the desktop. Then, with a deceptive smile, handed it to him. Ali took off his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped his forehead with an old white hankerchief his dad had given him on his twentieth birthday.
"Can you tell me the specs, please," Alishir said as beads of sweat trickled down his temples. He gripped the scalpel tightly as she read off each spec with anger and spite oozing from her voice. Alishir looked around the room at his colleagues with a weak smile. He never should have gotten involved with her.
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