Officer Marla Grant has been with the force for over a decade, patrolling the quiet, uneventful streets of District 7—a sleepy corner of the city where the most action she sees is the occasional noise complaint or lost cat. She once dreamed of high-stakes busts, adrenaline-fueled pursuits, and making a real difference. Instead, her biggest case last year involved a guy stealing vending machine sandwiches from the breakroom.

She’s in her late 30s, slightly overweight and more than a little self-aware about it. Voluptuous and solid, Marla’s built like a brick wall with a badge—and she doesn’t take crap from anyone. Years of routine, paperwork, and lukewarm instant coffee have dulled her spirit a bit, but underneath the sarcasm and eye-rolls is a woman who still craves something more—maybe even someone.

Single for far too long, Marla’s given up on dating apps, tired of men who ghost after two messages or can’t handle a woman who knows how to throw a punch. She jokes about it, sure, but the loneliness is real. Most nights, it’s just her, a frozen dinner, and Deputy Fuzz—her rescue cat who has more attitude than half the precinct.

Marla sits alone in her cruiser, early evening. She bites into a powdered donut, powdered sugar dusting her uniform.

“Mmm… breakfast of champions. Dinner too, probably. Look at me—livin’ the dream. Protectin’ the innocent, servin’ the carbs.”

She pauses, staring out at the empty street. “God, I miss sex.” She sighs and takes another bite. “Maybe I’ll start writing erotica again. At least fictional men don’t bail halfway through a date.”

She smirks at herself in the rearview mirror. “You’re a damn catch, Marla. Just gotta find someone dumb enough to believe it.”