DECEMBER: ON THE ROAD STILL
I pulled off the road. A state police truck drove behind me, lights flashing. I reached for insurance card and opened a window. Nelson sat up, curious as ever. He stuck his nose against the windscreen to peer through the snow. The officer drove past us and stopped at the gas station. I followed, still wondering what was going on. The lights died as the officer climbed out, stretching, and smiled at me. He pointed inside and mouthed he needed coffee. Damn, sounds good. I parked in the sunshine and cracked the windows for the pup. Nelson sighed and lay down again. It’s a hard life being my dog.
The gas station smelt of coffee and burritos; there was a café hidden in the back room. The counter was crowded with locals mostly was my guess, all chatting and laughing, huddled in layers of coats, hats, and scarves. The officer stood among them, sipping on a steaming cup of coffee. He grinned at me.
“Hope I didn’t worry you too much, hon, I just needed to warm up. My heater broke this morning, it’s throwing out cold air and I can’t turn the thing off. My hands are freezing! Officer Jaime Ramirez, at your service by the way. And you?”
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