Martin

Martin reached into his suit pocket and fished around for a moment, before a retrieving a small chocolate. He stared at the empty desk in front of him as camera men and producers hustled by him in a hurry. Every day for almost ten years, Martin had been on television. For some that sounds like a dream, but for Martin it was just a job. He hosted a highly syndicated morning news show that went nationwide. Every day, he talked about the issues that plagued the American people. Every day he looked into the black eye of the camera and wove stories of another police shooting, a terrorist plot, or rancor from presidential candidates. He didn't especially hate his job, but it was certainly hard to stay positive at times. Most people just heard the news. Maybe on their way to work, or in an airport terminal waiting for their flight. He lived the news. He had to research the stories, interview the victim or perpetrator, and follow leads. Most people probably thought he was just a talking head, but he cared about his job. 

Martin believed, in a way, that he had a new lease on life. After some ups and downs, he moved to California. Drug rehab was behind him, and while his abuse hadn't been the worst of those he knew, he needed a new environment. The temptations still existed, but he had learned how to deal with them in drug abuse treatment. In California, however, the air felt cleaner. It probably wasn't, and he knew this, but it felt better. Something about being away from the place that forged his addiction made it easier to not care about it. The people who talked him into using were gone, and none of his new friends or coworkers had any idea. At his old job, he would spend the moments before a broadcast getting high. He still remembered the feeling; it was etched into his brain like hieroglyphs. Symbols of a time long ago, beautiful, and purposeless. The first high he remembered felt like the blood in his veins had been replaced by warm honey. He felt weightless, as if angels were lifting him into the air. It was like the feeling of falling asleep after an exhausting day, knowing there's nothing to wake up early for tomorrow. He missed the feeling when he was standing on set, staring at all the cameras. Without looking down, he slowly unwrapped the small chocolate still in his hands. He felt the chocolate starting to turn warm, and ate it in one bite. The milky softness of the chocolate filled his mouth, and every taste bud seemed to participate in the experience, adding their own individual opinions into the chorus of sensation. He felt like he was floating. "Martin?" A voice plummeted him back to reality, and he opened eyes he didn't realize he had closed. "You're on in five."