This wasn’t what he had imagined when he joined the academy. In his crime fighting daydreams stakeouts were thrilling like the movies. His partner and he would be slouched behind the wheels of a nondescript black sedan sipping hot coffee and before they were done the perpetrators would appear.
Instead here he sat on a cold street bench dressed like a vagrant staring at the dying lights of Pearl’s Di-er, lips too chapped to even smile at the ironic sign.
Just as he shifted hoping to feel his legs again, he saw it. The distinct red dot of a sniper rifle aimed at his chest.
Written in response to Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday 23rd challenge with photo prompt by Jesse Williams