Kevin had never liked Emmett very much, and the feeling was mutual. But, given the proximity of their cubicles, the two were bound to run into each other frequently.

And they did.

Kevin returned from lunch one day find all his pictures on the floor and his cubicle swaying like San Francisco during a 6.9. Emmett was on his end, Allen wrench in hand.

“What the hell?”

“I measured. Your cubicle’s six inches wider than mine, so I’m just correcting that little oversight,” said Emmett.

“How can you do that?” Kevin cried.

“Oh, it’s easy. The stuff’s all modular; all you need is the right tool.”