The Constable


night beach ferris

The constable held a long gaze at the wall-mounted clock. Counting down the seconds, the officer waited in great anticipation for the minute-hand to strike 12, thus ending his 5:00-clock shift and the start of his month-long vacation. The second-hand took its sweet time during which he imagined the orangey glows of sunset beaches, beautiful women strolling down a boardwalk, and the neon lights of a city that never slept. By the time his dreams of revelry had released their grasp, it was 7:00 pm and he had missed the last bus home.

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