Narrow Margin

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"You are very powerful, provided you know how powerful you are."
~Yogi Bhajan
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Genette

I had this bright idea to place a video camera in the corner of my room. It'd be great for B-roll and to capture interviews. I didn't know if I'd ever have a chance to show this footage to the world, but I wanted to have it on hand to be safe. You never knew what could happen. Of course, I didn't plan on having it rolling the entire time, because not only was that a waste of film and memory, but it was also just plain creepy. 

Satisfied with the camera's position, I hit record and backed away. I showcased the room, showing its decent size for such a small base. I needed to say something, but I hadn't thought this through enough before my 'bright idea.' I groaned and tipped my back head back, mulling over something that wouldn't sound too stupid. I chose simple was the best. Rolling my neck, I showcased the room once more, saying, "This was the room, or the cell, I had been assigned to." I figured that was enough for now. I could always shift to other photos or videos and have voiceovers to go over it, to make it seem less abrupt. 

Calling it a 'cell' wasn't far from the truth. I had to stay in here until the higher-ups allowed me my freedom again.  However, my friends were given permission to visit. I'm pretty sure it was through Blaze's doing that my accommodations were as good as they were. I'm sure the last thing on the Base Commander's mind was having a room set up for some mainland journalist telling a story about his least favorite person on base: Bartlett. I wondered when the captain would be coming back, or if they'd even found him yet. Was he okay? Was he alive? What would I do if he didn't return? What would happen to my story then? I didn't want to return to the mainland, but I also didn't have a good enough story to stay here and write about with Bartlett gone. It'd be hell trying to convince my boss otherwise.  

I sat on the edge of my bed, and for about the millionth time, I glanced around in my room. There was a bunk bed and a nightstand in one corner, a desk at the foot of the bed, and a couch and dresser on the opposite side.  The barren place only increased my anxiety and extreme boredom. Despite it being the afternoon, Chopper, Blaze, and Nagase were all asleep, so asking them to join me was out of the question. I couldn't even leave to see Pops or call my family. I just wanted someone to talk to, but Perrault ordered that my phone be confiscated to make sure I wasn't a spy. It was bullshit, but I figured letting them see whatever they wanted to see would clear my name faster than fighting them on it. They'd be bored with what they saw. All I had on my phone were pictures of my friends and family, and pictures of soldiers and planes for my articles. Even my texts were dry, other than the snarky banter I shared with my sister and Chopper. 

God, or maybe some other higher power, heard my whining about wanting company. It wasn't who I had in mind, but I was pleasantly surprised to see who it was: Captain Hamilton. Unlike his superior, the Base Commander, who locked me in here, he's been very reasonable with me. He even got my camera and phone back, which he handed to me immediately upon his arrival.  I gratefully took them, glad to have them again.  Hamilton told me that if his uncle wasn't a soldier, he would've liked to have a job like mine. His green eyes glittered with amusement when I responded by saying the job had its perks until you were locked up for something outside your control.

"He's not exactly the most reasonable man sometimes," Hamilton remarked, moving over to my window and peering out, "but I've learned how to work him when I need to."

"Then you have an enviable gift." I wanted to ask him about Bartlett, but before I could, the landline in my room started ringing. Hamilton answered it, and I could hear the Base Commander's irritated voice on the other end. I watched Hamilton's expression fall and harden the longer the conversation went on. When he put the phone back down on the receiver, he tapped the back of it lightly once, twice, three times... then practically smashed his finger into the phone. His sudden burst of anger shocked me. Hamilton rarely showed any emotion other than stoic calm. 

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