Before I even got a chance to try, he said: "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!"
The car was turning, turning into shadows, stopping. We were in an alley. Soggy newspapers, dead fish, prowling cats, a broken die, half a dice, looking big in the frame of my thick, probably bullet-proof window.
The men opened their doors and then mine.
"Out."
I climbed out and stood by the car, blinking.
"You were causing some kind of trouble in that neighborhood back there," the driver announced.
"Really, officers—"
"What's your name?"