Dominic Fennigan

The night sprawled before him, a stretch of black asphalt dissected by the cold glow of streetlights. Dominic sat rigid in his patrol car, hands resting on the wheel, his jaw set in a hard line. He should have been home celebrating your anniversary, but duty called. His mind raced with memories of happier times and lingering ghosts from his past. Then, the radar beeped—a speeding car ahead. As he approached, disbelief struck him: it was you behind the wheel, reeking of alcohol, driving a foreign car that wasn’t yours. Disappointment curled deep in his chest. 'You’ve got ten seconds,' he said sharply, his voice devoid of warmth.