Perspicacity (noun): keenness of judgment

The new addition to the local jail was young. He wore the expression of a smug rebel, smirking as if he’d taken the upper hand despite the cold metal bars in his face. From the pair of sharp eyes that seemed to hold a spark of life, he couldn’t be older than a high-schooler.

“I’m tellin’ ya, sir. I just wanted the cash. That’s it, really.” Still grinning shamelessly, the young man explained.

The police officer raised a questioning eyebrow. “I personally do not believe that jumping in front of a car is the wisest life decision, although drunk driving isn’t any better.”

Somewhat disgusted, he glanced at the figure in a nearby cell. The irresponsible driver was snoozing mindlessly, his beard half-soaked with drool.

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“It don’t matter. As long as I get the dolla’ bills, it’s all good.” His upper body was wrapped like a mummy in bandages, but he gave himself a good pat on the chest.

For several moments, the police officer simply looked at him.

“...Is there someone you’re doing this for?”

Instantly, the teenager stiffened. It looked like the officer hit the right mark.

“A dead man can’t spend money. If it was for yourself, I don’t think you would’ve put your life in danger.” His tone was neither comforting nor harsh, but a non-judgemental neutrality.

No reply.

A sigh escaped the officer’s throat. “No need to answer me. Just think about if it’s worth it. Would that person you risked it for appreciate it if you died? Would you appreciate yourself? You’re still young, after all.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heels and left. Something in the young man’s blazing, passionate eyes reminded him of his own teenage years, and he wanted to give away the guidance that he once hoped for.