Elly was driving home after visiting with her boyfriend for the evening. She’d left a little later than she’d have liked since she had to be up early for class in the morning, so she was looking forward to getting home. As she turned onto another street, she could see red and blue lights flashing just ahead, and a small line of cars stopped at a police check-point. “Great,” she thought, “I really don’t need this right now.”
A large, powerful looking officer approached her vehicle and she rolled down the window. He bent over to speak to her, and she glimpsed “Ricks” on his nametag. “Good evening,” the officer said in a deep voice. “License and registration, please.” Elly was nervous. She had only just received her learner’s permit and she was just past curfew for driving alone. She fumbled with her purse and the glove box and retrieved the documents for the officer.
“Elizabeth Banson. Age: 17. Eyes: Green. Hair: Red. Height: 5-5,” Ricks read aloud, pausing between each statistic as if considering them for some reason. “It seems you’re past your curfew, young lady,” Ricks accused.