A transformer blew across the street, some five hundred feet from our fourth-floor office. A small, crackling discharge sounded, rousing us; by the time I moved to the window the poor power depot was expiring with a loud pop and a whiff of mustard-colored smoke.
I went off to the restroom and upon my return, the rest of the office had chosen a vantage point at whatever window was closest. A nearby bank, apparently, heard the sound and emptied; policemen and fire had descended and swarmed; a small crowd from the adjacent mall gathered.
Nothing.
Back to business, a little off-kilter.