stomach. He hadn't done anything wrong, but the sight of a police cruiser in his neighborhood
often brought more trouble than peace. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart,
and turned to face the vehicle.
The driver's side door swung open, and Officer Jenkins stepped out. She was relatively new to the
precinct, known for her aggressive tactics and a tendency to jump to conclusions. Her hand
rested instinctively on her belt as she approached Marcus, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Evening," Marcus said, his voice calm but cautious.
"What are you doing?" Officer Jenkins demanded, her tone sharp and accusatory.
"Taking out the trash," Marcus replied, gesturing to the black bag sitting next to the bin.
Jenkins stopped a few feet away, her flashlight beam cutting through the darkness and
illuminating Marcus's face. "Is this your house?"
"Yes, it is," Marcus said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "I live here."
"Can you prove it?" Jenkins asked, her hand moving closer to her holster.
Marcus frowned. "My ID is inside. I just stepped out for a minute."
"Step away from the bag," Jenkins ordered, her voice rising an octave.
"Officer, it's just garbage," Marcus said, taking a small step back, his hands raised slightly to show
he meant no harm. "I'm just doing my chores."
"I said, step away!" Jenkins barked, unhooking her cuffs. "You're trespassing and acting