The Knock Came Before I Could Dial 911

passenger seat with two phones, a roll of cash, and my address written on the back of a church bulletin.

The driver had three broken fingers.

I looked at my swollen thumb.

Officer Doyle glanced at the cast-iron skillet sitting in the evidence bag by the door and said, “Nice pan.”

I started laughing.

Not happy laughing. Not sane laughing.

The kind that makes continue reading …