Love and Other Things

11:37 AM, The Heptagon, East Wing, Floor Four, Room 17.

Kevin and Atlas twiddled pens and straightened paper stacks, the staplers full and the printers vibrant, neither one of them had ever seen the inside of the fourth draw down on the ancient yellowed filling cabinet until Atlas removed the paper clip that’d been stuck in the rolling mechanisms since years before either’s employment, he’d changed the water filter in the fish tank and Kevin put up the new ‘Busy Business Bears’ calendars he received from his niece last Christmas… all to escape the fact the two of them had no idea what they were doing.

“Okay I’ll say it” Atlas spat out like boiling soup, his mouth trembled as he struggled to utter the tainted words. Kevin jumps to his feet like a mouse looking for a crack in the drywall “I think the coolers out of…”

“What’s love Kevin???” The words finally forced their way through, “What are we doing here, how do we even begin to…” 

“Holding hands I guess…” Kevin scratches his head and stares at the freshly steam cleaned carpet. “big ballads sung by long haired men with open shirts, cards with doves on them, who knows?”. Atlus’s bloodshot eyes shoot towards him in a desperate panic that only an ill defined desk job can cultivate. 

“WE SHOULD KEVIN! THE DEPARTMENT OF LOVE ENFORCEMENT!!” The tension in the air sinks like balloons filled with the wrong air, the two take a quiet moment to consider their current predicament and where the buck stops. “We’ve clearly been given too much oversight.” Atlas spurts, his overly gelled hair parting flapping as he moves, eroded by sweat. Kevin reaches for his ‘World’s Greatest Coffee Drinker’ mug, “and this so new, it’s like a brand new law.” he utters from behind his lopsided moustache. 

“It is brand new” Atlas interjects, “Our Mighty Sovereign Lord Baskerville…”

Kevin cuts in “Praise be”

“Praise be,” Atlus continues “Our Mighty Lord has decreed by general order a ban on love, it was in the news.” 

“Which one?”

“We only have one.” 

“Oh yeah.”

“Anyway we have a job to do.”

“We have to figure… what is love.” Kevin proclaims with an uncharacteristic tone of clarity and purpose, he exchanges an intense stare with Atlas as they reach the silent understanding of what is going to be a long night of philosophy, misdemeanours and… doves.

2:42 PM, The Heptagon, East Wing, Floor Four, Room 17.

The two desk riding civil lawmen stand at either side of a sprawling board cluttered with sticky notes, all the clocks, the paintings of boats, even dart board all cleared and thrown in an unruly stack by the shared bathroom. 

“Should we arrest people who making love songs?” Atlas queried with a building genuine interest. 

“The people making them no, the people BUYING them…” The two civil servants excitedly smirk at each other, celebrating the wheels of this new partnership beginning to turn.

4:15 PM, The Heptagon, East Wing, Floor Four, Room 17.

“What about romantic comedies?” Kevin asks, pen resting on his bottom lip.

“No I’ve seen all of them, no real love there.” Atlas murmurs, Kevin looks over as he sits up and adjusts his rumpled shirt.

“What about the…. other ‘romantic’ movies.” Kevin tiptoes around the subject, not exactly knowing where to look in the room as stuffy as it’s occupants.

“Only if they get a bit too into it.” Atlas retorts, putting the matter to bed as quickly as he can.

7:51 PM, The Heptagon, East Wing, Floor Four, Room 17.

“Does it have to be romantic?” Says Kevin, looking over at Atlas for his take who seems to be spent from the days work. “Say someone really likes his lawnmower, or toaster and they say they love it…” 

Atlas cuts him off “What department did you work at before this Kevin?”, looking to take a much needed sidebar away from laws and prosecution. 

“Park crimes”

“Park crimes?”

“Yeah.”

“Like people canoodling there?”

“No that would be sex crimes.”

“Vandalism of benches?”

“No there was a team for that.”

“… it was just dog mess wasn’t it?”

“Yeah” he pauses after the embarrassing admission. “Not a lot of love there. How about you.”

Atlas sits perched on the corner end of his desk, one of his brown laced shoes lying on the ground as he massages his foot after a day of pacing, he pauses as he picks it back up again. “Violent crimes, more love than you’d think, sometimes too much.” The lawman slides his brown leather back on before walking back to the board, red marker clutched in his right hand. 

The sun had set hours ago, with the board littered with such minor transgressions as ‘loving the smell of fresh cut grass’ and the most punishable of crimes, the strongest kinds of love, the romantic kinds, the unconditional kinds and even the love for yourself, the hardest to achieve for some that takes a lifetime of work can now require that lifetime paid back with interest. 

“Did you have any ties?” Kevin asks with a subtle tone of the yearn for empathy, words coated with feathers. “No, not for a long time.” Atlas creaked from a dry mouth, “Me neither.” Kevin chirped back, “maybe that’s why they picked us.” He continued.

12:21 AM, The Heptagon, East Wing, Floor Four, Room 17.

“And with ‘Loving the sound of your knuckles cracking’ squarely in the not a crime section, I believe that’s the last post-it.” Atlas croaks as he puts a pin in the centre of the board. Overlooking the hundreds of transgressions and laws they would now have to enforce the two exchanged a moment of silence, as they allowed the reality of their new roles to weigh on them. 

“Do you feel like we’re losing something here? Will we be better off.” Atlas says.

“Theres only one way to find out.” Kevin responds with a jockish and jovial demeanour that’s brings up the mood.

“I guess so.” He grabs his coat, rejuvenated by the possibility of this new future. “So Keven, did you have a good first day on the job?”

“Atlas.” Reaching for the door handle, “I loved it.”

The pair freeze, unaware of how to proceed, before slowly turning to the board.