The City

By Ellis Goldbas

The people in this dreadful city are even worse. Even the constant rain is unfit to wash away its sins. The mantle I bestowed upon myself is a curse. I accepted this job to enforce change, but there is no hope for this city. In the dead of night people still crowd the street, all seem to seek profit from the weak.

Everyone forgets but I am forced to remember. Noting the stories told within the confines of this city. The events of the night disappear with the sun, I sit at the diner deep in thought. Drowning in my glass. Thinking … waiting.

I go to take a sip once more. The dim light from the ceiling make my shadow stretch across floor My phone buzzes, vibrations bring life to the table. There is a body on 4th and staple.

Pellets of rain pound onto the windshield, the rumble of the engine makes the city seem soundless. All that is on my mind is who?

As I approach the victim, dread washes over me. It's another officer, now there are three who are dead. Is it because of me?

I am sick of seeing chalk silhouettes. The more I try, the worse it gets.