***

My desk was in the back corner, covered with boxes of paperwork completely hidden from the rest of the cubicles. Despite being secluded, it didn't stop the noise from reaching me.

People would try to hide their conversations in the past, but now they openly gossip about me in front of my face.

I got up from my desk, unable to bear the distracting chatter in earshot. The two officers standing there with a cup of coffee in hand stared at me with an unimpressed look, as if my very presence was an inconvenience to them.

One of them smirked slightly, whispering something to the other, who chuckled in response. All I could do was walk past and pretend like I didn't notice.

I found my way over to the printer room, which became my perfect escape. I didn't even need photocopies. I would just stand there for a moment of peace, often fantasizing about being back in my patrol car.

The world was simple back then. I was just an officer dedicated to protecting and serving my community. Who I was didn't matter. I wasn't seen as a person but an authority figure in a uniform. My only role was to uphold the law and ensure the safety of civilians. Save lives, protect people—that was it. Now I'm just me, exposed, bare.

I opened my eyes and let out a sigh. I looked down at the blinking light on the printer. The screen flashed "paper jam." The irony felt like a sharp blade stuck in my chest. After years of training and experience saving lives, the biggest crisis I'm facing is a stubborn printer. I couldn't help but laugh through gritted teeth as my face soured.