P O L A R I S j o s h l e r

T H U N K

Tyler stood in front of a shelf full of chips, peanuts, trail mix, and pretzels. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets and playing with his keys and an old receipt. Outside, heavy raindrops hit the large windows of the convenience store.

Thunk, thunk.

His eyes flitted about the selection of junk food over and over again in a never-ending cycle of not knowing what to buy. He was hungry, but for what?

Hungry for a fresh start, maybe...

He smirked to himself before reaching out for a bag of twisted pretzels. The crinkle of the package made the older man behind the counter look up and eye Tyler suspiciously.

He had been standing there for 20 minutes, silent and unmoving like a statue. His many layers in the July weather worried the man behind the counter, who had jumped to conclusions and looked for the outline of a gun in his jacket.

With the bag of pretzels in his hand, Tyler approached the counter. He placed the plastic bag on the surface and went back to dig in his pockets for his wallet.

Scanning the pretzels, the man grunted out a question. "Why all the layers?"

"Hm?" Tyler hummed in response, one hand stuck in his pocket as he looked up like a deer caught in the headlights. "Oh, I, uh, I get cold easy."

"In July?"

"Yeah." Tyler breathed. He resumed looking for his wallet. Finding it, he pulled out a $5 bill and handed it over to the man.

Moving to add it to the register, the man pressed the button. When the slot didn't open, he grunted again, this time in frustration.

"C'mon..." he grumbled, whacking the side of the outdated register. The sound of loose, old plastic being hit by a palm rang out, filling Tyler's head like a storm cloud.

Thunk, thunk.

He began to space out.

Thunk, thunk.

How long had he been standing there?

Thunk, thunk.

Who cared anymore?

Thunk, thunk, thunk...

Thunk, thunk.

Joshua slapped the side of his computer, teeth gritted. "Come on," he growled. "Fucking work."

"Cool it, Hothead." An officer teased as he walked past.

"Don't call me that."

"Well don't act like a hothead."

Joshua rose from his chair and grabbed the man by the collar of his uniform. He yanked him closer to himself so he could get in his face.

"Don't call me that." Joshua spat. "I am not a hothead."

"That's enough." came a stern command from behind Joshua. The red headed SWAT member sneered in disgust and let go of his co-worker.

"Fucking psycho." The man breathed, straightening out his uniform. He walked away stiffly, affronted by the sudden physical contact.

"Now Joshua," his superior scolded as he turned to face her, "That's not the kind of behavior we like to see on the force. We like to see unity. Togetherness." The Sargent's lips were drawn into a tight purse as she spoke, her back ramrod straight.

He stood at attention, saluting her. His sly, piercing eyes were trained on her age-worn face. In his mind, he envisioned snapping her neck and stepping over her body to get to her office, where he himself would lead the SWAT team of Columbus.

He waved the thought away, but stored it somewhere in his head for later.

"At ease." She said with a small bow of her head. Joshua's arm returned to his side. "And I hope you take that as advice too, Dun."

She spun around on her heels and walked back to her office, her pristine black pumps sticking to the tacky floor. Her pressed navy blue suit coat and skirt adorned with medals barely moved at all under her tight body movements.

Work in the office resumed as soon as the Sargent closed her door, and Joshua sat back down in his seat. He had gotten worked up and needed to do something to relieve the tension.

He reached under his desk and felt around for his gym bag. The handles landed under his grasp and he pulled, hard, thoroughly removing the bag from its Velcro strips.

"Where you going?" His desk mate asked Joshua as he made a beeline for the exit.

"Gym." came his single-worded, gruff answer. He left through the clear double doors and pressed the elevator button.

Thunk, thunk.

Joshua's taped hands hit the punching bag in quick two-timed succession. The anger roiled in his chest and spurred him on to keep going.

Thunk, thunk.

His eyes burned as sweat drops rolled down his forehead and dripped into them. His vision blurred, but that did nothing to stop him.

Thunk, thunk.

Blind rage crawled through Joshua's veins. The emotion was clawing away at him and wouldn't leave until it was satisfied. It was always a nuisance; a constant devil on his shoulder.

Thunk, thunk.

But then he got to thinking. He thought of his father, how he had treated him and his family so miserably for years and years, only to leave them barely alive.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

That bastard. How could he? After all he had put them through, he just up and leaves?

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

Four punches for his father. More were coming. Gritting his teeth once again, Joshua clenched his fists harder than before and continued his assault.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.

Tears burst from his eyes, tracing his cheeks. He kept punching, kept expelling rage. He didn't stop.

Until...

Letting out a roar of anger, Joshua jumped up and spun around, kicking the punching bag with his bare foot. The cable above snapped, freeing the bag and sending it flying across the damp concrete floor of the police academy's gym.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest. It thudded in his ears and left him disoriented as he struggled to grab the cable.

Thunk thunk. Thunk thunk. Thunk thunk.

His bandaged fingers wrapped around the cable, keeping him from falling on the floor. He clung onto it like a lifeline.

Thunk thunk. Thunk thunk.

He pressed his face against his hands, his jaw being dragged down as he panted. His lungs felt as if they were on fire. He closed his eyes.

Thunk thunk.