I stay on the police ride along the whole night. Some crazy stuff goes down, some less crazy stuff goes down, I never do end up getting to go to the shooting range. My intuition that I'd be assigned to the single, male car was dead on. One of the guys I ride with is the same age as I am and flashes me this bright bulb smile. He's genuine, nice. Tiny, unmistakable, sparks. He opens doors and we drive around on our own for awhile while paperwork is filed. I half want him to just go for it, ask for my number. And half feel guilty for thinking the thought.
I sleep deeply for five hours and get up to get ready to go visit RBH. Ten minutes before running out the door, there's a call, he's going to be a couple hours late.
Then quiet.
Don't be mad.
And the funny thing is, I can't decide if I am or not, as if anger is governed by logic. I'm undecided if I'll still go meet him at all; and the scary thing is it's not anger as much as apathy. If you don't care, why should I?
listening: silversun pickups - lazy eye
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