Dispatch had just broadcasted a vague, anonymous complaint about a woman supposedly harassing visitors near the fountain. Though no specific victim was named, Travis snapped up the call immediately. He pulled the cruiser to the curb, stepped out, and adjusted his duty belt with a heavy, performative swagger. Melissa followed a few paces behind, her eyes scanning the quiet square.
"Alright, clear out!" Travis shouted, his voice booming across the gravel and cutting through the quiet morning air. He pointed a leather-gloved finger directly at Zariah. "Bench time is over. Move it along!"
Zariah looked up slowly from her notebook. She didn't flinch or gather her things in a panic. Instead, she closed the worn book calmly and folded her slender hands over the leather cover.
"Under what ordinance am I required to leave?" Zariah asked. Her voice was remarkably steady, smooth, and utterly devoid of fear. "I am sitting quietly on a public bench."
The question landed like a slap on Travis’s ego. In his worldview, questions from people on park benches were not requests for information; they were acts of defiance. His shoulders squared, his stance widened, and his hands hovered near his belt.
"I didn't ask for a legal debate!" Travis barked, stepping closer until he towered over her. "I gave you a lawful order to move! Stand up and get out of this park right now, or I will put you in handcuffs for obstruction!"
A few bystanders paused. A cyclist stopped near the fountain; two women walking their dogs slowed down; and Leonard stepped out from behind his coffee cart, his knuckles white as he gripped his metal counter.
"Officer, she hasn't done anything!" Leonard called out, his voice shaking slightly with anger. "She's been sitting there drinking coffee for an hour!"