Home > urban > Total Blackout > KARIMA ALI - DAY 216

Total Blackout KARIMA ALI - DAY 216

Author:Super_nugget Category:urban Update time:2024-06-11 09:26:59

Gregory Toussaint, whom everyone at the station called Greg, was feeling down. After the first months of confusion, he had time to reflect. He had seen his fellow citizens behaving like bandits, even the most ordinary ones. Those who had been useful to the society before found themselves at a loss when they realized they couldn't work.

When they lost their jobs, they lost their bearings and a means to feed their families. Since childhood, they had been told to get a good job to earn a good salary and never lack anything. Now, they were told to find other means to achieve the same results.

Seeing the postman, the baker, the mechanic, the bartender, the cashier, the janitor, and so many others losing their footing and falling into delinquency deeply affected him, but he said nothing. He followed the movement and obeyed orders to restore order in his country.

When the government collapsed, and the President was killed, he said nothing and kept moving forward for the good of the people.

But when the people turned against them because they didn't have enough to eat, something broke inside him.

There had been significant protests in Nanterre despite the bans, and many acts of violence had been committed. He could understand their distress; he himself had an empty stomach and ate only every other day, but there was a limit not to be crossed.

Shouting at them and blaming them entirely was more than ingratitude. These people, for whom he had worked so hard, now inspired him with contempt.

He wanted to do what so many before him had done: return his uniform and leave. Maybe return to his native island, Guadeloupe. Its beautiful landscapes, clear waters, captivating scents, his mother's laughter, the song of exotic birds, the climate. He missed everything.

What kept him from trying to return there, across the Atlantic Ocean, over six thousand kilometers away, was his colleagues and friends. They were like a second family to him. Not once had they been mean to him, unlike what some had said before he left for the mainland. Not once had they looked at his skin color. If they joked about his Caribbean accent, it was with kindness. He himself laughed a lot at the accents of his comrades.

The only ones who had been bad to him were those who despised the uniform and everything it represented. He had been insulted in countless ways to make him understand that a black man shouldn't be in the police force. Karima Ali, his superior, had suffered a lot, just like him, but she had endured. She showed him that he could be proud to be a gendarme, no matter how much others criticized him for it.

More than once, he had talked with her. They got along well and spoke freely despite the difference in rank and age, which was actually not significant. They respected each other.

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