Screw that. Melissa wasn't about to miss a deadline just because Jack Frost had decided to vomit forth a blizzard of glitter in a city that didn't know what to do with snow. All morning, her programmers had been sticking their heads in the door with a litany of excuses: kids stuck at school, sick moms who needed medicine, that frantic need to stock up on milk and bread that made no sense unless one was a French toast chef. Melissa had smiled and waved them on, knowing it would come down to her, a souped-up Mac, and an entire pot of coffee swiped from the CEO's private kitchen after he'd given her a good-natured hug and abandoned ship. And that was okay. She liked playing the hero and hitting Send moments before the client's clock ticked down, especially when no one believed it could be done.As it turned out, hitting deadlines was a rare superpower to have.“Lissa, you want a ride home? It's getting thick out there.” One of the newer programmers fidgeted in her doorway, keys jingling in his hand.
