Nia found the last copy of the town paper on a table by the diner door.
The front page showed a picture of the old bridge. Under it was a headline about cracks in the supports.
Her dad had read that story twice.
“If they hadn’t covered it,” he said, “the city might’ve waited another year.”
The paper had two reporters left.
One covered city hall. One covered schools, fires, sports, and anything else that happened before dinner.
That night, the editor called a meeting in the newsroom.
A new state plan could give small local papers a tax credit. The money might let them keep both reporters. Maybe it could even pay for another one.
But the editor looked worried.
“If we take it,” she said, “some people will say we work for the state.”
“We don’t,” said Nia’s dad.
“I know,” the editor said. “But trust is hard to build. It’s easy to lose.”
Mr. Patel, who owned the diner, spoke first.
“Take the help,” he said. “We need people who show up at council meetings. We need someone who asks why the water bill went up.”
Then Mrs. Grant stood. She had spent years arguing with city hall over a new parking lot near her house.
“The paper has to be able to go after the state too,” she said. “What happens when the people paying part of the bill are the people you need to question?”
Nia looked through the office window.
A reporter was typing a story about the bridge. Another was on the phone with a parent whose child had been hurt at school.
The editor put two folders on the table.
One said, **Take the credit and keep the reporters.**
The other said, **Turn it down and stay fully separate.**
No one reached for either folder.