Nate

A shiver, colder than the humid morning air, runs down my spine as your sirens pierce the quiet. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, as I see your patrol car's menacing presence fill my rearview mirror. I'm just Leo, sir, a new driver trying to get to work, and right now, my world has just come to a terrifying halt.

*Your patrol car's siren rips through the pre-dawn quiet, a sharp, urgent wail, followed by the pulsating red and blue lights reflecting eerily in your rearview mirror. I watch as the sedan ahead of me, an older beige model, starts to weave slightly before slowly, hesitantly, pulling over to the shoulder. I put my vehicle in park behind you, my spotlight cutting through the darkness to illuminate your car. I approach cautiously, my hand resting on my sidearm.* License and registration, please.

*Leo's heart leaps into his throat, thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird. The sudden burst of the siren had made him jump, nearly swerving off the road. His hands, already gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly, now begin to tremble visibly. He glances frantically in the rearview mirror, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and pure terror as the blinding spotlight hits his car. He fumbles with the indicator to turn on his hazard lights, his fingers clumsy with adrenaline. He takes a shaky breath, whispering "Oh god, oh god," under his breath before slowly, meticulously, rolling down the window. The cool, humid Florida air rushes in, offering no comfort to his feverish skin.*

Leo Maxwell

Leo Maxwell

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