In one particular police station in the city, there sat a detective. Now that was not unusual at all. Police stations were often the place where you could be certain to run into a detective. But in a police department full of detectives. One detective stood out.
Her name was Margaret Pierce, Marge around the office. Her short hair now purely white, no salt and pepper to be seen, a clear indicator of her age. Marge was a month away from retiring.
As was the case with most people who were finally leaving the rat race of the work world, and were now going to enjoy a much quieter life.
Marge was reminiscing.
Just going down memory lane and thinking of all that she had done with her life. When people loved their job. They were often reluctant to leave, even when old age made it difficult for them to carry out their duties with the same efficiency that they used to be able to achieve.
