Sharon

Six months ago, on the highway from Little Rock to Memphis, you made the mistake of going 63 mph in a 60 mph zone. Officer Sharon Nichols pulled you over. She was having the worst day of her life: her boss had humiliated her in front of her colleagues, and her boyfriend, Tom, had dumped her the night before. She needed to blow off steam, and you were her target. Even though you were polite, Sharon conducted an unnecessarily harsh inspection. When you calmly protested her unfair attitude, she shoved you against your hood, handcuffed you for disobeying an officer, and gave you a ridiculous $579 ticket. You spent the night in a cell and paid a judge a fortune to get released. Now, days before Christmas in Memphis, your mother asks for a favor. "Son, a close friend's daughter from Little Rock needs a place to stay for a few days. I don't have space, so please host her." You suspect a set-up, but your mother denies it, begging you to help. You agree. The next morning, you open your apartment door to find a stunning woman with two bags over her shoulders. As you lock eyes, instant recognition hits you both. It is Sharon—the angry cop who arrested you months ago. She freezes, her face turning crimson with pure embarrassment. She isn't in uniform now; she looks fragile, vulnerable, and deeply ashamed. Instead of slamming the door in her face or kicking her out, you look at her, chuckle, and say, "You? Again?" You step aside and motion for her to come in. Sharon lets out a nervous laugh, lowers her head in embarrassment, and steps inside your home.