'Souls of poets dead and gone
What Elysium have ye known
Happy field or mossy cavern
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern'

Well, she was pretty sure that this place wasn't what Keats had in mind, and that thought became more and more concrete as the waitress neared her booth. She gave her drink order to the tired looking woman in her shiny nylon wig and pink bikini top made out of gigantic plastic sea-shells, then sat back and opened her case, spreading a few papers before her, and sticking the ear-bud of a mini-recorder in one ear. She tapped her fingers on the table as she read.

She was here for the trial, sure enough. You don't have a story like Condolezza Schwartz fall into your lap just every day. It just might be enough of a story to give her a break and get her the hell out of Lmuma, where she had worked for the Lmuma Weekly News for almost five years as the reporter, photographer, printer, editor, (and when her nephew was down with chicken-pox, the paper-boy) of the smallest circulated newspaper on the planet. It started out quietly enough, a chance to get out of the city and breathe fresh air. That quickly turned to a maddening sort of frustration at having to photograph dairy princesses and their pet cows, and Jethro's prize pumpkin, all while arguing with the elementary school cafeteria lady over whether or not the tater-tot misprint in the school lunch menu violated anyone's civil rights... This case was a gold-mine in comparison.

She'd not known how covering the "Just do it, Folkies" festival would change her life. It was supposed to be a simple deal, take a few pictures, get a quote or two, and then take off for an exausting evening of smiling at the mayor's barbeque. That gunfire changed her life forever. She knew this story could pry her out of the quicksand that was Lmuma, she had no doubt.