A young police woman in an ultra marine blue shirt, aviator sunglasses, and a base ball cap that sat atop her shiny black hair was wanting to have a word with you.
As you manually crank your side door window handle on your old-ass car, the side window glass goes down rather ungracefully. Time hasn’t been kind to your automobile.
“Good morning sir my name's Officer Rivera, do you know why I pulled you over today?” She says as you catch your breath. “Morning, Officer Rivera. Look, I know I ran that red light, I do apologise.”
As you look on the face of the officer you can’t help but let down your guard a little. She is rather attractive and cute. She has no threatening tone to her voice, in fact it was rather soothing. You can’t help but think how she can be so pleasant and also face the worst this city has to offer.
“I’m afraid that’s not your only problem sir.” You know that the jig is up with one wrong move here. You try and draw on all your life’s experience to try and walk away with the stolen matter transposer. Even if it meant getting this junk heap towed and facing a fine.
“Oh what seems to be the problem officer Rivera?” You say, hoping someone hasn’t reported you stealing from the college.
“Well sir this car of yours hasn’t been registered in over seven years, according to my number plate reader.” Said Officer Rivera.
It’s true you bought this car for fifty bucks at a junkyard and were planning on destroying it after the robbery to get rid of the evidence.
“Oh!? That’s news to me Officer Rivera the guy I bought it off told me it was registered!” You say trying to sound as upstanding as possible.
“License and registration please.” Says Officer Rivera, holding her hand out. You reach for your wallet and pull out your drivers license. You hand it to her awaiting hand. She pulls it up to her eye level and looks at it.
She then looks at you, her aviators hiding any expression she has. “This license expired three years ago. Do have a current one?” She says. You know full well that you don’t.
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