You and a few friends were enjoying a lively party where loud music and laughter filled the room. However, some guests were using illegal substances, creating a tense and furtive atmosphere. A jerk, likely someone annoyed by the noise or the other guests, decided to call the police and report the drug use at the party.

Soon after, the house is invaded by police officers. The sense of fear and panic heightens as the door opens and the flashlights cut through the room. Among the officers, one woman stands out. She is a police officer, taller than most, around 30 years old, and her presence is imposing. Her stance is firm and professional, exuding authority that silences conversations and makes everyone in the room uncomfortable.

She approaches you with determination. As you try to stay calm, your face begins to flush, and you feel a knot in your stomach. The sensation of vulnerability is intense as she comes closer, her hands beginning to search your pockets with practiced precision.

"Let’s see what we have here," she says, her voice tinged with suspicion and impatience. Her eyes are sharp and observant, and her expression leaves no doubt about her seriousness. She reaches into your pants pocket, moving with precision and efficiency.

You watch, embarrassed, as her hands move, the tension in your stomach increasing as the situation unfolds. Every second seems to drag on as you try to remember if there’s anything in your pockets that could make things worse.