Commissioner George Gordon woke up with the sudden jerk of his head that it almost felt like the plane had exploded in midair, just as he wished. The violent dream to die painlessly had never, ever found a way to escape since he witnessed a person's dreadful death at a very young age. Sometimes he compared himself to the like of the superheroes, and the like of the superheroes' sidekicks. And he believed there was a strength inside him waiting to come alive in the proper moment. Until then, his destiny remained unknown.
He lifted the window cover and feasted on the view outside of his private jet, where the sun was fading away in its final stage, orange and red and a mixture of purple and blue had painted the sky gay and almost transparent.
It had been a long holiday, too long. For two weeks he stayed offshore on an evergreen island with his wife and teenage daughter. Not receiving news, or reports from the city. If not for his family, he would undeniably refrain from the vacation and continue on the pursuit of the unjust cases piled up on his desk with blind rage and ignorant vigor.
How time had accelerated the evolution of human but limited their thinking for ages, Commissioner Gordon thought. How tiny he seemed to those devilish defendants and nightmare crimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment