Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
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My lungs aren't cooperating today. None of my organs are. I've been on edge my whole shift, sick with worry, unable to take a full breath or concentrate entirely on the task at hand. I'm not supposed to take this kind of stuff on shift with me, let my personal life leak into work. But today has been a prime example of one of those days where you push through regardless.
Get the job done. Go home.
That's what I keep repeating to myself. It's almost time to go home.
Home. To her. To them. It doesn't seem to matter anymore whose house we're spending time at when the day comes to an end. Anywhere we're together is home.
I don't like this change of pace, trying to keep personal shit from infiltrating my work life. Usually it's the opposite. I prefer the opposite. It's much easier, in my opinion, to go home and wash the work day off. Shower, change into your civvies, and know that the events of your shift are behind you. Knowing that the people you love and care about are safe brings indescribable relief, despite the hardship and pain you may have spent the day surrounded by.
I know that sounds fucked up but there's no other way to put it. I know every human matters and imagining Amber and Mia in any kind of danger only emphasizes the reality of others and extends my empathy toward them. But the truth is, the ones we love will always hold a higher spot, keep us more protective of their safety and make us grateful for their well-being.
I'm having a hard time with the gratitude part today. I'll feel better when I'm with them. When I'm home with them.
Unfortunately though, the odds don't seem in my favor today.
Even as I'm driving through town, thinking only of getting back to the station and clocking out, my instincts go on alert at the sight of a multi-car accident on the opposite side of the road. All at once, the call starts coming through the radio as dispatch begins to relay the details and tells which units to respond. It wouldn't normally be my call but I can hardly just drive away when I'm accidentally the first on the scene.
Shit. Of all the days, this would happen today.
A panicked woman begins flagging me down and I give her a reassuring nod of my head as I pull over and make my way over to her.
"That was fast," she exhales in relief, throwing one hand over her heart as she tries to catch her breath and using the other one to beckon me toward the vehicles. "I feel like I just got off the phone with 911 a minute ago. I didn't know you guys would show up so soon."
"The call just came through," I explain as we approach one of the cars together. "Looks like I was in the right place at the right time."
The woman nods and tries a smile but I can tell she's shaken up. "He came out of nowhere. It happened so fast," she says, her voice breaking with despair. "He said he's alright but he can't open the door."
