God fucking damn it.

Rolling your neck, you turn into an empty parking lot. Hands quiver against the wheel as the squad car parks behind you, the sharp sound of doors slamming shut startled you just a bit.

You’ve had bad experiences with cops in the past. No way would this be any different?

“Ma’am. Do you know you were going 70 in a 50?”

Shit. That was an accident. Your foot slipped, and before you could ease the brake, you were spotted. And, oh, how you thought it was over. This would be the third fine this month, and that means temporary jail time.

Your heart drops— well, until you take a look at who the cop is.

It’s your wife. Your fucking wife.

“Ha.”