HE WOULDN’T GIVE ME BACK MY LICENSE—UNLESS I GAVE HIM MY INSTAGRAM

I had just pulled into the Shell station at 8th and Green. Daylight. Around 4 p.m. I wasn’t speeding. Didn’t run a light. I’d even used my blinker—which, to be honest, I usually forget. So when red and blue lights filled my rearview and a cruiser blocked me in, I assumed it was something minor….
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