The Station

I had to go into the police station to collect a set of keys I’d lost. Easy, right?

Wrong.

I entered the monolith full of law-enforcing scary people and was ordered to sit by the eyebrow behind the desk. I did as I was told, determined not to do the verbal-diarrhoea thing, the tripping over thing or the sweaty palm thing. Just because there were police, didn’t mean I had to lose my head.

I was waiting patiently, palms just a little sweaty, when through a door to my right, strode a severe blonde in smart casual attire. She’s probably read my file. Do I have a file? I mean, I haven’t done anything wrong, but maybe they’ve been keeping an eye on me anyway? Is she a detective or just a civilian? Can she arrest me?

Then I realised I was talking out loud.

“Reason to be nervous?” asked the woman, gesturing me through the doorway.

“Heh, heh. Nope, just um, creating a story in my head. I’m a writer. Actually, not really – just something I do, you know, like breaking wind or throwing stones. Oh, not like that – not a people or houses. Just on the lake. You know? Skipping? Heh, heh.”

We had stopped outside another door and she was looking at me blankly. After an eon or two we entered a room with a desk, upon which were a set of keys with a giant pink ‘M’ attached to them.

“These your keys?”

“Uh, they look like mine. Can I touch them?”

“Well if they’re your keys…”

“Oh! Yes, silly me. Just haven’t had my coffee. Actually, do you have a bathroom I could use. All this waiting, you know.”

“This won’t take long,”

“Sure, yes, of course.”

She lapsed into a prickly and uncomfortable silence. Her words were all in her eyes, and they all said, you’re a dishonest thieving murderer – I can tell. I know all about that stealing the lollipop when you were three. I know all about the thoughts you have when you think no one can hear you.

Oh God, will the lollipop thing come up? Is it in my file?

But I eventually did get out of there relatively unscathed. The keys were mine and I signed for them, nodding to the caution to change locks. As I left the station, I heard the woman call out to the eyebrow…

“Don’t you love those ones? So much fun to play with. Don’t even have to try!” The laughter echoed all the way to my car. Well I’m not taking that. I poked my tongue at the camera as I kicked dirt on the front wheel of a police car. Then I freaked out that someone would come out and arrest me, so I got in the car and drove just under the speed limit back home.

Take that.


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