John Anderson, News Anchor

John Anderson checked his watch, 5:15 AM on the dot, and straightened his tie for the third time while looking at his reflection on the glass door. Perfect. He’d arrived at the studio at exactly the same time for fifteen years, following the same route, and holding the same breakfast sandwich he’d ordered from the same deli. As he finished his breakfast at his desk drawer, he couldn’t help but appreciate the five identical black pens, arranged in a neat row. A creature of habit, John took the world as it was and made the best of it.

The fluorescent lights of the WKPX studio hummed overhead as makeup artists made their final touches. The scent of hairspray hung in the air, briefly stinging his eyes.

John’s job was simple: report the news and look good while doing it. As a news anchor, he was used to seeing many stories come and go, to the point where they all bled together. Two things helped him make it through the long day: his wonderful co-anchor Olivia Moss and his faithful mug of coffee, which was warm enough for him to sip as he saw Olivia enter.

“Morning, John,” Olivia said, sliding into her anchor chair seconds before the floor director counted them in. “Another day in B-Team paradise.” She flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she arranged her papers.

When the energy was right, the two were a powerhouse, their personalities bouncing off each other in a rhythm that viewers had come to expect with their morning coffee. However, while John was content with staying in the morning cycle, even if it meant having his 3:30 AM alarm interrupting his dreams, Olivia had always coveted the nightly news spot. To her, the evening news crew were the faces of the network, the ones who delivered the day’s most important headlines when everyone was actually watching.

“Thirty seconds,” called the director.

John took a sip of coffee, the third cup of the morning, and settled into his chair. “B-Team pays the bills just fine.” He smiled genuinely. “Besides, who wants to report on congressional deadlocks and international crises when we get to cover the annual dog parade and interview local beekeepers?”

Olivia’s pen tapped against her notepad, her eyes narrowing. “Marcus is retiring next month,” she said quietly, referring to the evening news anchor. “Sharon in programming told me they’re considering internal candidates first.” Her eyes flicked to the monitors where the producer was queuing up their opening segment on school budget cuts.

“Ten seconds,” the floor director announced.

John recognized the ambitious look in Olivia’s eye. It was the same look she’d had when she’d scooped the mayor's corruption scandal last year, a story that should have been evening news territory. He thought about mentioning it to Erin tonight, but then remembered his wife’s shift at the hospital wouldn’t end until after midnight.

Their schedules were like ships passing in the night; John asleep when Erin came home, Erin asleep when he left for work. Their shared moments were brief exchanges over breakfast or dinner, conversations that never quite finished, plans perpetually postponed to “next weekend.” Maybe Erin would understand Olivia’s ambition better than he did.

“The morning crew won’t be the same without you,” he whispered.

Olivia’s gaze lingered on him, her lips parting as if to say something—then shutting just as quickly.

“Going live in five, four…” The director switched to hand signals for the final count.

Olivia straightened her shoulders, her signature, camera-ready smile snapping into place. John followed suit, forcing himself to focus on the prompter. But something flickered at the edge of his vision, a strange shimmer near the corner of the studio. He frowned. Probably a reflection off a monitor. The BTS crew would handle it.

What John didn’t realize as he prepared to greet the city with the day’s headlines was that it wasn’t a camera glitch. It wasn’t a trick of the light.

It was the first sign of a crack in reality, one that would soon shatter his orderly world.