Do Not Send: Science Fiction

"Do Not Send." She stabbed her finger at the blinking button, but too late. Even as she touched it, the screen dissolved into a friendly, "Thank you for your business. Your message will be transmitted to the next available translight shipper, and should arrive at the destination in three to four weeks." She paced in front of the kiosk. Three weeks--surely three weeks was enough to do something? If that message got to its destination, she would be ruined. She spared a hard look for the unconscious "vagabond" at the base of the terminal. A stolen com card, a little info, and--bam! She was looking at--


Inspiration: Not sending an OpenOffice error report when it crashed last.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: I mean, this could be high potential, but nothing here makes it so.