Above him the illuminated second hand made its last circuit before deadline and the loud, warning bell rang shrilly. Everyone looked up at the clock. The forms were locked up, the presses were ready to start rolling.
Terrell folded his arms over the typewriter on the desk and put his head down wearily. When the bell stopped ringing, its echoes lingered in the long room for a few seconds, and then trembled slowly away into the silence.
