hyper\real fiction 5: the paranoid

‘The f*** are you following me for?’

I’m just trying to get to work, after a long night shift endured just a few hours ago.  I don’t really give a f*** about him.

‘don’t f*** with me, I’m going to run your plates and hunt you down.’

Really,!? just because I followed your exact driving pattern for 2 blocks, you think I’m following you?

I don’t blame the poor bloke. being a cop is rough nowadays. or someone with lots of enemies, I don’t fucking know.


I ignore him as we part our separate ways from the traffic light.  Then smoke a cigarette before heading inside, letting the tension of that moment suffocate with every exhale.

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