***

I stood on the street and let out a sigh. I was free from one burden but on to the next. Taking out a cigarette from my pocket, I lit it and dragged my feet to the station.

I wasn't passionate about my career. I was passionate about protecting people, so this job was best suited to me. Saving the lives of those in need and serving my city—that's what I wanted, not to sit behind a desk pushing paperwork.

The station I worked at was unbearable. The atmosphere had grown more toxic over the years, but my co-workers' hostility came long before the incident.

I was outed for my preference for men early in my career. My boyfriend at the time came to pick me up after work, and when he thought nobody was looking, he planted a kiss on my lips. Someone must have seen us because the next day, I walked in, and the mood had changed drastically.

The glares I received were filled with a mixture of disgust and disdain. It was a look I knew very well. 

Conversations ceased when I entered a room, I was excluded from social gatherings, and people avoided me as if I was diseased.

Even my patrol partner requested to change stations without saying a word. I would be lying if I said I didn't see it coming. There was also a part of me that hoped I was wrong.

I wasn't ashamed to admit who I am, but for the sake of convenience, I would have preferred my romantic life to be kept private. My work isn't affected by it, so it's irrelevant. It's not like it's anybody's damn business who I spend my nights with.