Repose

[The day after this.]

[Locked to Sasha J]
I am prepared to give you the information now. [Seeing as he got carried away before and never came back.]

[Locked to Cat C]
Helena is fine.

[Locked to Misha B]
You are awake?

[Locked to Bruce W]
It is done.

[Locked to Naila a-K]
Aunt.

[Since the accumulated debris of a decade of mouldering journalism has been flung from the upstairs window, the newspaper has largely been quiet. When it has been almost a week, a team of women from the Capital in a van with a lurid picture of a feather duster painted on its side panel turn up, clearly with keys and ostensibly move in above the coffee shop for two days. The coffee clientele may hear loud vacuuming, banging and the sound of cheap pop music and then mercifully, the cleaning team evacuate.

The ads go up in the Capital and in the community college in town. They solicit freelancers - writers and photographers, spanning from news to creative to design. There is mention of renumeration but the advertizer is coy about exactly how much. Those interested are invited to call a number which rings through (if not answered promptly) to a professional-sounding machine that rattles off the name of the paper, the opening hours (who knew it had them?) and the email address for landing ad space requests. The newspaper has not yet made an appearance, but the door beside the coffee shop swings and slams in the morning and again in the afternoon.]