Day 765: 5 Minute Freewrite: Sunday - Prompt: stuck drawer (and, The Posture of Innocence, day 33)
Mr. Black arrives at Big Loft police headquarters to find that there has been a great shift in the attitudes of some of the people there ... but as ever, some people are just stuck on stupid ...
To get totally caught up on The Posture of Innocence, here are the prologue, day 1, day 2, day 3, day 3.5, day 4, day 4.5, day 5, day 5.5, day 6, day 7, day 7.5, day 8, day 9, day 9.5, day 10, day 10.5, day 11, day 11.5, day 12, day 12.5, day 13, day 13.5, day 14, day 15, day 16, day 16.5, day 17, day 18, day 19, day 19.5, day 20, day 20.5, day 21, day 22, day 22.5, day 23, day 23.5, day 24, day 24.5, day 25, day 25.5, day 26, day 26.5, day 27, day 27.5, day 28, day 28.5, day 29, day 29.5, day 30, day 30.5, day 31, day 31.5, day 32, and day 32.5!
Mr. Black walked into police headquarters the next morning well-rested, and found that a sugar truck must have passed through the place and hit all of the womenfolk. The feminine energy was off the chart – every woman there seemed to think her chances in life had just gone up 100 percent. He could see it in how they talked, how they walked, how they related to him – in some cases it was not an improvement, because he had suddenly become less of a man in their eyes than before.
Mr. Black just smiled and shook his head… the haughty women didn't realize how things were. They were like people who had just put every valuable they had into a stuck drawer, the day before they discovered the drawer was stuck and was never going to release those valuables again while the chest of drawers was intact. That was what racism and bigotry had just done to these haughty women.
Never mind Captain Calvert and the massive mess he was involved in. The officers over at the Blue Ridge Station who had brutalized those Black art students, the quick exposure of the matter to the world by the Lofton County Free Voice, and the massive lawsuits based on that same evidence had already slapped the taste out of these officers' racist little mouths, along with the paychecks out of their hands, the payments off their car notes and mortgages, and the shine off of whatever daydreams of superiority they had over him. Mr. Black knew it. He couldn't even be angry, knowing what would start to happen to those women over the course of that day, and that week, and that year. It was tragic. But, it was not his tragedy.