Footprints in the Sand

Chapter three: Michael

Chapter 3: Michael

            Michael set a cup of coffee down on his desk. Why did it bother him that he was the youngest police officer at the station?

“Kid.” He looked up. There was another officer standing at the door to his office.

            Kid. Now I remember why.

“Do you have the file I asked you to get?” he asked.

“Yes sir.” Michael said pulling out a thick folder out of a drawer and set it on his desk. The officer (Michael couldn’t remember his name) grabbed the folder and exited the room without another word.

            What? No thank you? He sighed and rolled his eyes. Asshole.

            That’s what sucks about being the rookie. You get stuck doing everyone else’s work. Then you don’t even get a thank you. Life sucks.

            Michael glanced at his watch. It was his lunch break. He stood up and snatched his keys from his desk. His house was only a couple minutes away. So it wasn’t long before he pulled into the drive way. There were boxes all over the house. He’d just moved out of his parents’ house a week ago.

            Finally. He thought opening one of the boxes. It was full of plates and bowls. He moved onto another one, yearbooks. He pulled one of them out. Michael walked over to the couch and sat down. ’04-’05 was printed on the front cover. That was his eighth grade year.

            He opened it up looking at himself and a few friends. Then he flipped to the seventh grade section. His gaze fell on a short, black haired girl. The name underneath read Sarah McKee.

“Sarah.” He whispered. He remembered her. He actually had a crush on her. That was before he moved to Florida that summer. Sarah. She was one of those really sweet and innocent girls.

            Too shy. He sighed.  She probably wouldn’t have been any fun.

“Oh well.” He said out loud. He took a last look at her picture and shut the book.