By Philip Scholz
Opening my front door, I see my parole officer standing there.
“Random search,” he announces.
I nod. We’d done this throughout the year. I watch him go through the apartment. He seems to be doing a sloppy job. He misses the gun in my pillowcase, the pot in my drawer, the cash taped under the table.
“All clear,” he soon reports.
I see his face. He looks tired. No, he looks beaten…beaten by this system.
“Take care,” he grunts and leaves.
I’ll show him a success story. I throw out the incriminating items. Not the cash, though; I’m not crazy.
Definitely a winner.
Great! You capture the cynicism and failure of this system.
Nicely done, one of those tales you wish weren’t constrained by word count. It manages to build empathy with both of the characters, however sparely and briefly they are presented. Puts me in mind of Bradbury’s classic “Fahrenheit 451”
Really good stuff
Cool story. Interesting POV. I wish you showed the parole officer a little bit, but I enjoyed this story—and the change of direction at the end.