Under the table.

The bullmastiff was running around the yard, the nose to the ground. Every now and then she looked up and I’m sure she was smiling.

Today I went to a village community outside our town to write about them buying the local sports arena. When walking away from there, the woman in the company silently told me about the most, from a journalistic point of view, exciting thing ever. She was very clear with the fact that this was not for publishing.
I hate getting scoops under the table. It’s the best news ever, but I can not write it. Why does that happen? Now I will do what I can to find out more about it, but probably it’s such an old thing it’s nothing to write about anyway. But, there must be an angle to make it news.


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