She wanted to smile and cry. Instead she stood trapped somewhere between an incredulous snort and a nervous laughter. Giselle had little experience with epiphany.
The table in front of her was a mess, almost mathematical in its specific intensity. A half circle of destruction evidenced a sudden bout of violent entropy. Pi radians of rage as executed by the sweep of Giselle’s left arm.
Empty decanters, musty tomes, and half-eaten meals had flung away in her wrath. Only a bottle of ink dashed backward in a bold riposte. In contrarian vengeance, it covered two days’ worth of hard won mathematics. Well, hard fought mathematics, she was forced to concede.
Centered but somewhat to the left, the loose sheets of her formulae lay in sepia ruin. All, save for half of one hastily scrawled line, was lost. However, now highlighted, her error was glaring and easily undone. The basic frame of the proper equation flashed like lightning through her agile mind.
Madly she grabbed for the nearest book and began scribbling madly across its bland frontispiece. Giselle would not sleep that night, but she would know ere morning.