Confined

0.

The faint ticking of the clock interrupts the buzzing of a telephone nearby. People trickle in and out of the police station like swarms of bees: a typical Wednesday afternoon.

Sheriff T shakes his head, his arm shaking with his hands in small fists. The endless up and down of his knee continues as he looks at his wristwatch for the millionth time. Sweat dribbles past his narrow forehead as the familiar raggedy beige cloth pats the moisture away. 

The sticky air becomes warmer as minutes pass. The station pulses with the occasional flurry of activity:  people being brought in and others being questioned. Nothing out of the ordinary. Assistant Renly throws files on the table nearby while grabbing a small, steaming cup of coffee. 

The NL Station stands to be one of the oldest and most established, but the recent cut downs have taken their toll. With little to enough funding and downsizing, the select few workmen remaining stand to cater the needs of the city with an ever increasing crime rate. 

Piles of files and workload litters the desks for most of the officers and detectives present. The light chime of the enormous clock near the reception sparks a small chatter as the workers leave their stations. The midday sun gleams as the crowd decreases, leaving Luke in his seat alone.

Receptionist Marie gives him a slight smile, as she grabs her Coat and heads out, rubbing her small flushed hands and tucking them into her coat pockets.

With one last glance towards Luke, she exits the station, sighing.