Hole-Hearted
The vibration of the phone in his pocket made Mark jump. He was sure that he’d never get used to that feeling – like a short jolt of electricity was coursing through his body – but he wouldn’t turn off the function because it was the only sure-fire way to get his attention. He finished writing the sentence on the editorial he was working on – a stirring indictment blaming the solid waste problems in Barton on incompetent management – hit control-s on his keyboard and then dug into his shirt pocket for the phone. It was a text from Sweeney, who was supposed to be covering a planning and zoning meeting but had once again gotten sidetracked. It was a maddening habit this young reporter had, she was always heading this way and that like a puppy chasing its tail. The result was usually nothing and she usually spent wasteful hours chasing down a lead. Mark was trying his best to teach her to determine was wheat and what was chafe when it came to news, but he had to admit to himself that h...