“The Arrest”
Rain falls lightly on the empty street. Sirens wail faintly in the distance. A patrol car slows to a stop. A cop steps out—calm, but alert. He sees the man standing under the flickering streetlight, hands in his jacket, eyes wide with fear.
COP (firmly, hand on holster):
“Sir, don’t move. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
MAN (nervous):
“I didn’t do anything, man. I was just walking. I’m not who you’re looking for.”
COP (stepping forward slowly):
“We got a report matching your description. I need you to turn around, place your hands behind your back.”
The man takes a step back, breathing fast. He looks tired—like someone who’s been running long before tonight.
MAN (pleading):
“Come on, officer… I got no record. I got a job. I just wanna go home.”
COP (calmer now, watching his every move):
“This isn’t personal. Let’s just handle it right. No sudden moves.”
The tension is thick. The man slowly turns, hands trembling as they go behind his back. The cuffs click shut. Not violently—just heavy with reality.
MAN (quietly):
“You ever been accused of being someone you’re not?”
The cop doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at him, thinking.
COP (softly):
“Yeah. I have.”
The rain keeps falling.
