Clarity
Ramsey pulled his cruiser into the parking lot and killed his lights. The last few hours were eating away at the back of his mind. His stale chips, and cold coffee was doing nothing against the knots in his stomach.
The Ibuprofen he popped did nothing to take the sting out of his legs from having had to chase a kid 3 blocks, and jumping a small fence before another officer ultimately beat him to it and was able to tackle the kid, who then kicked and punched everyone close enough.
The soft music playing just under the intermittent chatter on the radio did nothing to silence the screaming sobs of a mom at the scene of the Seventh and Main.
The vape he hit did nothing to ease the cravings for just one cigarette to try to ease his mind from the old man who looked so defeated and ashamed as he reported being mugged. “I’ve never felt so helpless,” he had said point blankly as he stared down at the ground.
Now, in the dark sanctuary of the parking lot, away from the chaos, Officer Ramsey could empathize with that statement. Day after day, week after week, for months and years…and while it was never easy, it was manageable in the beginning.
Now?
Now he just really needed that cigarette. He got out of his car and pulled a solitary cigarette from a crumpled pack from his pocket. As he drew that first drag, Ramsey stepped away from the car. He stared into the darkness wondering what he was even doing when the parking lot seemed to explode with light.
Ramsey jumped, hand dropping to his waist, eyes blinking back at the sudden light before realizing he had tripped a flood light on a motion sensor. As he tried to get his heart back down from where it had jumped into his throat, he saw the statue illumined by the light. St. Michael, staring down his sword at the snake beneath his feet, the stones on the arch above him reading simply: “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil…”
He jumped again as his radio crackled to life with dispatch wanting him to answer a call. Still staring at St. Michael, Ramsey affirmed he was only a couple blocks away, and would be on his way.
He took one last drag before dropping the cigarette to the ground and grinding it under his heel, and nodding.
Duty calls.
© Jeremy L. Heath, 2025. All rights reserved
