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She pressed POLICE into my left glove and FIRE into my right. “Hold them, please—I’m busy keeping my hands from shaking.” The girl couldn’t have been more than six. Freckles across the bridge of her nose. A pink dress under a too-big black windbreaker with reflective strips. Her fingers were cold, though the July sun was burning the parking lot into a griddle. I closed my hands around both badges, leather swallowing brass, like I was cupping two small hearts. I’m Jack Alvarez. Folks call me Road