I Shake My Head
because when I ask her what the emergency is, she tells me her 11 year old son won’t go to school. I want to shout at the woman and correct her mistake; this is a parenting issue, or lack thereof. But I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending her bratty, obnoxious child with school phobia is as important as the next elderly female having a heart attack. I briefly wonder how many times blue uniforms become parents as they force children to get a necessary education. I also wonder how many hours are left of my shift before I transition to the emotionally disturbed person on the corner yelling profanities at passing citizens. How often do these people actually carry a gun? A knife? I enter the calls regardless. Nine one one– always here and always ready, they say. The phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.
I shake my head.
Again.
