Neville grabbed his camera and started snapping photos from different angles. The soft click-click-click was satisfying, like proof he hadn't completely lost control of his life.
He switched to his light brain and took a few more shots from different angles—just for reference, or just to document this one successful, edible attempt. Maybe he would look back on this later and remember that, occasionally, he could make things go right.
The photos from the camera would need time to develop, so he carefully tucked the small prints, still blank, into his pocket. They would probably finish forming when he got back to his workstation.
Neville hurriedly ran through his final preparations, then changed into work clothes. He straightened his collar, checked the mirror. He made sure he would look professional. He double-checked if he had everything he needed.
