Detection, A Short Story

Leo came charging home clutching the paper he had been given at the station for dear life. Said paper was his life, one could say. It was a lifetime of work and effort leading into a lifetime of worthwhile labor. It was a lifetime of dreaming giving way to a lifetime of living in said dreams. That sort of thing did not happen every day. His class alone had a 1% pass rate.

That was inaccurate in some ways. It was him, really. He was the only one who passed.

And even thought it was unbecoming of someone in his newfound station, Leo was soon racing home. His steps were long, and his well polished shoes slammed into the ground and the many puddles that littered the ground after last night’s rain. When he slammed into the puddles, the water would leap up and splash over his pants. He could feel the dampness setting in, but Baron did not care. There was something else he needed to focus on. There was something else he needed to do. There was someone else he needed to see.

“Mom!” he called out as he burst into his childhood home.

The door slammed against the wall as he swung it open, and from the impact, it swung back toward the doorway, clipping Baron’s ankle as he went.

“Mom!” he called out again, more desperate this time.

Leo could barely contain himself. Excitement and joy coursed through his veins. The pressure in his body built up, and with each passing moment, he was scared he might actually explode. Which would have been unbecoming given…