Just before a midnight, I noticed two of the four cops on horses smoking cigars. The cops, not the horses. One male, one female. The cops, I don’t know about the horses, it was dark.
Right after midnight, an officer took a call on his phone, “Yeah, honey, I kissed Scott instead of you, you know, he was here…” Officer Scott, presumably, looks over at us, grins, and said, “yeah, we’re partners. You know how that is.”
About the author:
Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.
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