Justice
He noticed the lines around his eyes, lines that hadn't
been there before. He couldn't believe how old he looked. The mirror always
told the truth, though, always showed him more than he wanted to see. Mirror,
mirror on the wall, who's the tiredest cop of all? He laughed bitterly at
his own joke. Sleeping Beauty, you're not.
He believed in his life and his job as a cop. He had
spent so many years searching for a career that was meaningful. Life wasn't just
about taking, it was about giving, too. He knew he was
just one of many, but what he was doing mattered. Every time someone was
kidnapped, or raped, or murdered, he was needed. The innocent needed him, and
the guilty feared him. He caught them, the courts prosecuted him, and
hopefully, the judge sentenced them. It was all in the name of duty.
With each horrifying case, he kept getting older. He only
had to look in the mirror to see that. He seemed to have aged 10 years in the
last couple of weeks. How many cases had he worked this month? The crime rate
kept going up, but the number of available detectives stayed the same. There was never enough hours in the day any more. He couldn't
remember the last time he'd had a weekend off. He sighed. He knew he wasn't the
only tired cop. It was the same everywhere.
So he did what he always did; he went to work. By the end
of his shift, another criminal was behind bars, and the streets were safe
again. One more case was solved, but there were many yet to go. He could see
many long days ahead, but it was OK. As long as he still believed that justice
would always be served, he would be all right.