“This can’t be happening. None of this is real. This is a dream. I’m going to wake up now.” And I wait, but nothing changes.
The rear seat of the police car is uncomfortable; the stench, overpowering. The cuffs pinch my wrists, confirming the reality of my situation. I choke on the bile rising in my throat, wondering if I can hold it down or if I’ll find myself an unwilling contributor to the foulness closing in on me.
Like a video running at triple speed I replay this morning’s events. Nothing makes sense. There must be some mistake.