The driver’s seat had rips in the upholstery, and the ear-numbingly loud muffler was loose. It was barely hanging on by a makeshift hook fashioned from a wire coat hanger. The whole undercarriage rattled every time Lacey hit a pothole; but she refused to complain about the car, her tiny apartment, her low-paying waitressing job at Finn’s diner or anything else after recently witnessing the devastating hardship of others. Lacey was always in a hurry for one reason or another which inevitably prompted her to break the speed limit. She had been cited five times in the last few months. Knowing she didn’t have the money to pay them, she did what any gal in her predicament would. She shoved them into the compartment of the dashboard and hoped like the devil they would somehow magically disappear. They didn’t. Instead, an officer appeared at her front door with a bench warrant, taking her before the traffic-court judge who had issued it. Judge Ashmore peered over the rim of his bifocals. “Young lady, you cannot just ignore a problem and expect it to go away. Blatant avoidance never solves anything. The way I see it, you have two choices: pay the tickets or do thirty days in jail.”
