Blue Blazer

I am taping a Post-it note to the glass divider between Studio A and Studio B. It reads *Council Vote: 4-1, not 3-2.*

My marker squeaks. The studio is dark except for the red tally light on my mic stand and the glow of my phone screen, where I’m refreshing the local council’s live feed for the third time in ten minutes. It is nine forty-eight PM. In twelve minutes, I have to sit in the chair opposite Felix Hart and tell the entire city that his new highway plan is built on a rounding error.

The heavy door clicks open. I don’t look up. I’m checking the timestamp on the zoning document.