ON AIR

by johannespunkt

The camera zooms in on the grey letters until the only thing that’s visible is the bun of an unwitting stagehand’s red hairdo and the unlit phrase, “ON AIR.” The camera grows weary, and pans slowly across the room, until it finds an anchor’s face and does a little jig, because the camera handler is bored and light-headed. Someone taps on their watch. Reluctantly, the camera handler places the frame in the correct position and then she has a heart attack and falls over, clutching at her chest, inadvertently pointing the camera at the dusty ceiling. The letters light up.

Advertisements