Second Age, Echo Realm
Officer Monroe Delacordia rang the doorbell of the apartment as his companion Sargent Anntoll Packgram inspected the paper, “This is the last person on the list” she chimed. “Who’s there?”
came a voice from inside. “We are from the service, mam” he reported, with a note of optimism in his tone. “It’s open, come on in” the tenant answered, and they proceeded to fling the door back, Packgram looking over each wall of the scruffy residency like a tourist, until her eyes came to a rest on the pudgy woman reclined against the couch, surrounded by food containers and melon rinds. “Clemency, is it?” Delacordia inquired, curious as to how conspicuously the rumor did not fit the picture. “That’s me” she replied, swiping some of the litter onto the floor to make room. The two officers just stood there, oblivious to the gesture. “A record of discharge”
Monroe offered, extending a letter out to her. “Are you joking? This isn’t happening!” she protested. “You’re unfit for duty mam” Packgram countered. “What do you mean?” Clemency solicited piteously, confused and amazed at the sudden turn of events. Delacordia cleared his throat with a cough, trying not to roll his eyes, “I guess I’m going to have to spel it out” he thought, then took another step forward for comfort, “you’re physically unfit for duty”. “But … but, it’s just a couple pounds” she begged, looking from the paper back to them, and back to the paper again, disbelief slowly washing away into remorse. “Not real y. The service has standards that must be met for active duty” Packgram clarified, “look at this mess, this is below the conduct that we expect”. Clemency held back tears, knowing it was futile to fight. Al around her, the rinds of yellow fleshed butter-watermelon lay, as well as a fresh tray on the side table. She nodded her acceptance to them and they turned to depart. “Do you mind?” Packgram asked, pointing to a slice of butter-watermelon, then, when Clemency relented, walked out of the apartment with the creamy treat, taking a bite. As soon as they departed, the woman sat there
… inanimate. The progress of time slowed, laying on her shoulders like wreaths. She tracked back to the day it happened, when she had lost the resolve, and fallen into unending sadness, when she had seen him in the sky-battle, handsome, beautiful, lit by the sparks of fireflies.