A live studio interview goes off the rails.

The rain had forced pretzel vendors on the street to pack up and push their carts into storage. They wouldn’t be back to business until the next day, when the forecast predicted sunny skies to become the norm once again. As Josephine scurried into the 45-story building 11 streets south of Central Park holding her coat over her head rather than draped over her back and arms, she dreamed of being in a dry environment with less probability of slipping in just a moment. She proceeded to smile at a doorman who let her into the building and waved at the elevator operator who helped her get to the correct floor.

Once their journey up was over, the elevator operator gestured towards the opening doors and Josephine stepped out onto the navy blue carpet. A blonde broadcast technician nearly knocked her off her feet as she raced to the control room, though Josephine had managed to swerve out of her way and escaped with just a brush against her shoulder.

“Are you the data analyst?,” inquired a voice from across the hall.

Before she could confirm her identity, the lead anchor had made his way over to Josephine and stuck out his hand, expecting a handshake. As Josephine reciprocated his gesture, his lips curled into a smile and revealed his artificially white teeth.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, revealing their first two interviews on his show hadn’t left a strong impression on him.

They walked down the hall leading to the recording studio, but not before stopping for a beat to let a pair of camera operators through the doorway, lugging a large camera on wheels with an unclear, pixelated monitor.

–

A redheaded man of average height sauntered in front of the desk just as the anchor was in the middle of furiously reciting tongue twisters from memory. His leisurely pace and furrowed brow glaringly contradicted each other, and all Josephine could do was imagine what his news would be.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out, as the man cleared his throat and managed to say, “Sorry, folks, it seems like we’ll have to stick to airing commercials for a little while longer. Looks like the storm’s interfering with our tech, but we’ll get it back up and running in no time.”

The anchor scoffed and complained while waving his hands in the air, though Josephine had already blocked his voice out. She had hoped they would have more time.

She feared dashing out of the interview now would arouse suspicions, so she remained perfectly still and composed in the swivel chair provided to her. All she could think about was getting back to her apartment in Lower Manhattan, newly made more spacious following her acrimonious breakup with her partner of ten months.

As soon as the last hastily packed bag of belongings was hauled out of her apartment, she got in a taxi and drove all the way to the most expansive grocery store in nearby New Jersey. With cartons and cartons and cartons of supplies in tow, she called a ride share service and made her way back to Tribeca. She then proceeded to make the same trek three more times.

“I’m going to run to the restroom while we wait for the cameras,” she offered as most people on set scrambled to get the cameras rolling.

“Go ahead, Jo. It seems like we’re going to get a late start on today’s broadcast, but we’ll just bump the meteorologist to make up for lost air time,” yelled a producer as she blinked rapidly, seemingly to get an eyelash out of her eye. “Hurry back, though.”

Josephine pushed her chair in neatly and made a beeline for the window in the hall, bolting right past the restrooms. She watched as the downpour grew outside. She tucked the front strands of her hair behind her ears, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then, she peered down at the sidewalk and discovered a flock of pigeons lying motionlessly on the ground. It was like they had dropped right out of the sky instead of seeking shelter from the storm.

The rain continued to collect down below. The city’s drainage grates were overworked and overpowered, and water rose at an accelerating rate, with no sign of stopping soon in sight. Soon, doormen would have to bunch fabric up near their doors and prepare for floods with every opening. The storming clouds were so dark they seemed purple. Her eyes darted back down just a few seconds later, since the lightning was blindingly bright and lingered in the atmosphere.

While returning to participate in the interview, Josephine picked up the incoming phone call from her secretary, who informed her about her boss’s insistence that she return to their office building at once. Josephine understood the menacing, ransom-note-esque letters that poured into their headquarters were not threats of an impending chemical attack, but rather warnings.

*Excerpt

Process

This piece came about during a Girls Write Now workshop, a source of inspiration I often find myself indebted to. A prompt during the workshop helped me think of the idea, and I further worked on the story with my mentor, Jamie. This is an excerpt from a longer text, which I’m hoping to continue writing and revising until it’s a finished product.