hyper\real fiction 2: [s]tatute [o]f [l]imitations (or, s*** outta…)

‘It’s been three months, Joe… whatta you gonna do now?’

The investigation, three months long and just as fruitless as everyone had anticipated.  ‘So this is what the city pays us for…’

‘Don’t you think that it’s a waste, Joe?’

‘Huh?’

It paid the bills… wasn’t that all that mattered?

‘Like, all this time doing stuff that we all know is kind of outdated… yeah, sure, we get paid now.  But what if… you know, what if we were doing something else with our time?’

‘Like what?’

‘You know… like catching real bad guys?  And starring in virtual online rock bands?  Making the world a better place, and all that optimistic bullshit?’

‘But then we probably wouldn’t be getting paid as much doing that kind of stuff, you know?’

‘Yeah, I guess… but that time, you know?  You don’t get it back.  And we ain’t getting any younger, y’know.’

Joe had nothing to reply, and the conversation was dropped just like that as their unsub walked out of the grocery store with baby diapers in hand.

—–

Later that night, Joe came home to his wife and kids.

‘How was your day, honey?’

‘Y’know… same shit, different day…’

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