more than a feeling, stancy

Chapter 1

Steve stared down at the typewriter than sat in front of him. Newspapers scattered his desk in an abrupt manner. Tick, tick, tick. His eyes locked with the analog clock that was mounted on the wall. He wiggled around in his seat, feeling his tie tighten around his neck. The top of the paper read The Hawkins Post, followed by a blank. He was running low on content. Every story he got was pointless. Nothing special happened in his small town of Hawkins, Indiana. He glanced out the window, seeing Main Street filled with pedestrians window shopping or chatting with their friends. Steve let out a sigh before looking back at his typewriter. It wasn't that his ideas were bland; he just didn't feel the need to write them. Nothing screamed excitement from his pieces. 

Steve was ordered to write a story about how The Blythes,  a local family, had received some sort of scholarship for their eldest son, Harrison. It was tiny stories like this that made Steve regret his decision of studying journalism and staying in Hawkins. He had lived here his whole life. In college, he bragged about how he was finally able to get out. That was until he realized how expensive it is to live in the city, and that journalist jobs were very much available. In order to save up money for an apartment he could afford, Steve decided to move back home and work for The Hawkins Post. The pay was fine. It was just the useless stories that drove him to insanity. 

Others in the office got to travel for work, extending to bigger cities. Writing stories about what's going on in the world while Steve sat in Hawkins and wrote about traffic and local businesses. Glancing around the office, he leaned back in his chair. Peering over to his neighbor, Barbara, he plastered a fake smile on his lips. "Psst." He whispered to the red head. "Barb." 

Barbara glanced up from her paper. She was one of the only secretaries in the office but everyone had a soft spot for her. Her hair was always pinned back into a high bun with some kind of braid in it. Freckles spread across her face, glasses matching. She never failed to wear long skirts with a button up top. Steve found her to be kind and easy to talk to, making her his bestest--and only--friend in Hawkins. "Hi Steve." She grinned before spinning her chair to face him. "Do you need something?" 

Steve shook his head. "No, no. Just thinking about how Harrison Blythe won that super cool scholarship." The sarcasm rolled off his tongue. 

Barb snorted. "I know you hate writing this stuff but someones gotta do it." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "I just..." he moved his chair closer to her. "I just don't get why I can't travel for work and report on bigger things. I graduated at the top of my class. I don't know what goes through the boss's head sometimes. I'm just as good as the ones who get to travel." 

Barb cracked a half-hearted smile. "Steve, I'm sure you're great. But whining won't get you anywhere. I'm sure the majority of the travel writers worked their way up. You have to start somewhere." 

Steve let out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. It's just frustrating." 

"Tell me about it." Barb shifted her eyes to her stacks of papers she needed to file. 

Steve nodded before moving his chair back to his respected desk. He let out a grunt, twisting his neck to the side until he heard a cracking sound. Bringing his hands up, he intertwined them and cut in half, listening to the several pops from his bones. He ran a hand through his hair before setting his fingertips on the typewriter. Before he could continue, the door to the office flew open. Everyone's heads turned at once, adjusting their postures. 

The buzz around the office quickly settled as Tom Holloway arrived. He shut the door behind him, giving several people nods. "Staff meeting in five." He stated before walking down the aisle. Everyone keep their eyes on him as he walked.