“Forgotten Papers”
Bright morning sun. A car pulls over to the side of the road. The driver looks nervous, tapping the steering wheel as a police cruiser stops behind him. The officer approaches the window.
COP (calm but direct):
“Morning, sir. Do you know why I pulled you over?”
DRIVER (anxious):
“Yeah, I think I might’ve been speeding. I’m really sorry, officer — I’m running late for work.”
COP:
“License and registration, please.”
The man sighs and rubs his face, embarrassed.
DRIVER:
“That’s the thing… I left my wallet and papers at home. I was in such a rush I didn’t even realize until I got halfway down the block.”
The cop raises an eyebrow.
COP:
“So you’re driving without a license or registration on you?”
DRIVER:
“I know how bad that sounds. I swear I’m not trying to hide anything. I’ve never had a ticket before — clean record.
I’m just a guy trying to keep his job.”
There’s a pause. The cop studies him — not just the words, but the tone, the sweat on his brow, the work uniform still slightly wrinkled.
COP (after a beat):
“Full name and date of birth?”
DRIVER:
“Marcus Green. March 17, 1990.”
The officer steps back, runs the info through his radio. A minute passes. Tension builds. Then the cop returns.
COP:
“Alright, Marcus. Everything checks out. Slow it down, okay?
You might be late — but rushing could cost more than time.”
DRIVER (relieved):
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I mean that.”
COP (nodding):
“Go make that paycheck. Next time, bring your license.”
