Writing Prompt

I’ve joined the Prompted Word! The goal is to complete a writing prompt every week, and then to post it (optional). Enjoy my brain gushings!

Writing prompt #4 – In what way do you not fit in with the family you grew up with?

The Sinestral

The wiry man sat with his legs crossed on the uncomfortable chair in front of the clerk’s desk. A single sheet of paper lay in his lap atop his hat, and he couldn’t resist running his fingers along its edges. Holding real paper, made from trees, was exceptionally rare. The FPO was known for its love of both bureaucracy and tradition.

The clerk returned to her desk carrying a steaming mug of coffee, and eyed him up and down. She heaved a sigh, and sat heavily in her chair. He felt the blush fill his cheeks and warm his ears. She’d definitely recognized him.

Skipping past the usual pleasantries, she held out her hand and raised her eyebrows. “Another complaint form?”

“No, ma’am.” He handed the sheet over, sad for the paper’s loss, apprehensive for the clerk’s reaction.

Her eyes scanned it, blinked, and then scanned it again. Her right hand wandered over to a cup of pens, grabbed one, and tapped it repeatedly on the worn desk top. “This form requests deployment?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She set the pen and paper down, and then retrieved a file from her cabinet. She dropped it onto the desk, rattling her pens and attracting everyone’s attention. The monstrous stack of papers was over five inches thick. “You know what this is.”

“My file, ma’am.”

“Your file.” She opened it, and scanned the top sheet. “Seventeen deployments terminated early, twenty-three denied deployment requests, and more complaint and suggestion forms than any other applicant.”

He fought the compulsion to draw in the file’s dust with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.”

She flipped the file closed and glared at him. “Please tell me why the good clerks of the Family Placement Office should curse another group of breathers with one of your kind?”

The man’s posture straightened. “My kind, ma’am?”

“Yes.” She gestured to the hand that had handed her the paper. “Lefties. Southpaws. The Sinestral.”

The man stood up, and the clerk leaned back in her chair. As slight as he was, his presence suddenly filled the room. He smoothed his shirt and looked her square in the eyes. “Ma’am, I’m sure I don’t know.” With that, he turned around and left the office, followed shortly by the building.

He bathed his face in the eternal sunlight for a few moments before placing his hat on his head. If the FPO would not help him, he’d simply have to find another way.