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Weekly Contest #180
I sit and stare at my phone in the D.C police station. My hands feel clammy, my stomach has knotted itself into a ball. I’m obviously nervous, but the thing that I feel people can’t see so clearly is the feeling of irritation I’m overcome with. Must be that goddamn media, I think to myself. Why else would a woman like me, the wife of one of the senate's most prominent senators be sitting here, in a grimy police station amongst all of the filth of the world. Beside me, a young boy sits, probably about 20 or something, I feel as he watches me...
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