“And I-ee-I will aaalways loove yooou!” Chrys belted along with the radio, doing the best imitation of a Smoky Mountain accent possible for an Orange County-born Italian. Oh, Dolly Parton. She quickly turned the radio down and stopped her shrill singing as she pulled up to a cop car, and tried to look responsible. To wave or not to wave?

Oh God, he was looking at her, she could feel his authoritarian stare boring into the side of her head. Damn! It was the side with the double-pierced ear. Now she was sure he thought she was a hooligan college student.

“I swear, officer!” she rehearsed in her head, “I was singing because I love Dolly, I haven’t had anything to drink!” then came the imaginary cuffs. Why couldn’t she just drive like a normal person, permanently attached to a cell phone?

Should she look? Was he talking into his radio? Oh man, he had to be… he was totally calling for backup.

The light changed and he sped off, then changed lanes without signalling. God, she was such a paranoid dork.