I’m someone who normally keeps my head down.
My days are a mix of managing deadlines at a mid-level office job and looking after my younger sibling while my parents work.
It’s routine—wake up early, commute, sit under fluorescent lights, handle emails, come home, cook dinner, and try not to let the stress seep in.
But lately, there’s been a shadow over everything; a gnawing anxiety that something from the past refuses to stay buried.
That night was just another reminder that some forces have more control than I do.
The officer’s authority felt absolute—his silence held power, his questions commanded answers.
He spoke softly, but it was clear I was under scrutiny not because of what I’d done on this road, but for something else completely.
It was a reminder of how those in uniform can pivot from protectors to gatekeepers of uncomfortable truths.
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