The Storm

something worth printing.” “Yes sir!” I responded like a buck private.

“Zach!”, Mr Fessmyer responded with an air of fatherly authority. “Yes Sir?” “Delores called earlier and wanted you to call her. She’s a sweetheart, Son, so don’t mess it up. I appreciate your work ethic, Kid, but you need a private life as well. Don’t lose that girl. Take it from one who learned the hard way, Son.” “Yes Sir,” I responded sheepishly. I didn’t know the boss was even tracking my social life so closely with my longtime girlfriend, Delores. We had met at one of those quaint little coffee shops about a week after I had arrived in Brooklyn. The boss was right. She is a sweetheart. Grabbing my briefcase, camera, and coat, I headed out the door and down the stairs. Jumping into my car I dialed Delores. “Hello?” the sweetest voice in the world answered. “Hi Sweetie!”, I responded. “Zach, how are you, Sweetheart? I’ve been trying to reach you.” “I know, Baby, and I’ve been so super busy. And I’m sorry. I have to go to Louisiana and cover the storm story down there. I’ll be gone five da ys and have to cancel our dinner date tonight. I’m going back to my apartment to get my stuff and head straight to the airport. Let’s get back together as soon as I return, and I PROMISE we’ll have some private time together. “That’s OK, Zach. You don’t ha ve to promise. I understand. But we haven’t seen each other in days, and I miss you.” “I miss you too, Sweetie, and I do promise we’ll get together as soon as I deliver the story to Mr. Fessmyer.” “How is he?” Delores asked. “Busy as usual and totally foc used on the expansion of the paper. I hope this story will help,” I replied. “I’m sure it will,” Delores kindly responded.

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