Friday, November 29, 2013

100 Words a Day 468

He hung his head in the back of the squad car. The cold and uncaring handcuffs cut into his wrists, slowly bringing a tingle to his fingertips. He watched the cops speaking to the line of patrons, interviewing them for details about the fight. Shifting in the leather seat, he was able to see the other man lying down on a stretcher with a paramedic holding ice over the black eye the man had received. A police officer supervised the process. He did not regret what happened; the man was harassing several people at the bar. He had it coming.

No comments:

Post a Comment