Whitey McNice sat behind the thick newsledge. She always arrived a few minutes before her co-anchors. The stylist stood behind her; he was winning over her blonde loose-ends and putting the finishing touches on her eye make-up. The bags were hard to conceal — too many genuine sleepless nights. News was wearing on her; you could see it in her embattled shoulders slouching, tributing Larry King.

She thought the promotion from local evening affiliate to nationwide morning would lift her spirits. No more local robberies, car crashes, and fires. She’d have bigger fish to fry: foreign policy, the environment, marriage amendments, healthcare.

Wrong. She should have seen it coming. The avalanche of fluff, “water cooler” stories piled up on her desk. Her job, she now realized, was to embody her station’s values on camera and inject the agenda — surround each segment with an aura of fear; string them along for the reward: insider info…protection. From whom? The unknown. She felt it now more than ever. The anxiety in the headlines burrowed into her subconscious, reinforcing her hedonistic whimsical yet paranoid, guilt-ridden nature — cowering and simultaneously hoping for the collapse of the series of charades that made up her worldview.

What could be more frightening than suburbia? She had memorized the name and address of each sex offender in her neighborhood. But, weren’t they always moving? Moving like terror cells? Evil doers lurked in every shadow.

She sipped her coffee and smiled briefly thinking about the new padlock on her front door. Her husband had agreed this morning: they needed a saferoom. You just don’t know when evil will come knocking. And that’s just the obvious kind…

What about the homosexuals? They’re becoming harder to spot, she thought, chewing her fresh lipstick. The new neighbors even toss around a football. They weren’t well dressed. She shuddered at the thought: The new weatherman couldn’t…would he? No, I’m sure he isn’t — so big and strong.

Whitey felt the world closing in tight. That new anchor…she’s black and not even sports reporter. Rumor had it that the network would be phasing in some of the weekend talent to liven things up a bit.

She knew the movie star guests would show up at any minute. Her co-anchors would be in-tow. I hope they don’t say anything upsetting about the president. I’ll have to cut-in and divert. Damage control — that’s what the network said…damage control.

As she straightened her blouse and practiced her smile, she repeated what they had told her on her first day:

“Smile with your eyes, show appropriate concern. Your face should say — there’s danger everywhere, but here you are safe.”