Tuesday’s tale, 4/7/2015.

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You all know by now what day it is, and what I’m doing. five minutes on the clock:

Trusting his instincts, he cursed, and the Hydrangea appeared to wilt further under the verbal onslaught. Right on cue, his driver pulled over. The cop hadn’t been flashing him, but riding his bumper like that usually meant the lights and siren were imminent.

The cop got out; there was only the one, in the custom of some areas that should have more police presence yet did not. The cop and his driver chatted, too low for him to hear, and a piece of plastic that could only be a license was exchanged. It could only be a fake, but it would be a good one; nearly impossible to pierce. The cop got back into his car and drove off. There wasn’t even a ticket handed out.

Waiting until the cop car was well on the way, he darted for the back seat of his transport. The driver must have seen him, because he had waited. opening the door quickly but softly, he rasped out a “drive” before ramming himself into the floorboard.

And time! 3 minutes, 48 seconds. The plot is clear as mud so far!

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