When the
cop-cold suckers came in, he knew it was over. He just looked from his shaky hands to the floor. They were friendly, at least.
Then they took his stash and left.
We sat there, not talking until he said, "I don't feel guilty." I nodded, and he continued, "The boundaries are real. I think they had it out for me to begin with, though. Somebody narced me out."
Later that evening, he said, "I need to get out of here. It's this place that's doing it to me."
"Well," I said, "you know, you can just ride it out. Just try to be happy."
"I can't, though. What would possess them to do that?"
"It's their job."
"I know, but did they have to be such pricks?"
"They really weren't."
"I need to get out of here."