DCzski In Malton

Maybe it's because of the training. I'm not talking about the physical drills or push ups or the weapons we used back at the Academy, I'm talking about what makes up the bulk and bain of a cop's job - the paperwork.
When I woke up this morning, jonesing for a cup of coffee (I almost can't remember the last time I had one), I checked in on a poor survivor family holeing up with us. Even in the center of what I'm calling the End of the World, their little girl, no more than 12 years old, has managed to keep it together enough to do the human thing and write in her diary. I had to look twice to make sure that’s what I saw. Yup, sure enough, it was one of those typical pink books with a strap and some weak locking clasp. Hey, whatever gets you through the day, and hopefully through the nights now, but I figured the girl was on to something, and even though the thought of writing the official report on what’s been going down is straight up impossible, it was a good idea to log some kind of record or at the very least my last Will and Testament to whoever gets out of this thing.
So here I am, DCzski, a cop pretty fresh from the Academy, giving you, whoever you are, a detail of the Hell I now call life in Malton.