Lola shook out the shiver in her spine and used the smoldering butt of her cigarette to light another. She’d been questioned, had to give a statement, but her supervisor told her to get home, that they would finish up tomorrow.

She wept through the whole ordeal, and only now, with the smooth smoke of the cigarette inflating her lungs, did she feel at ease. All she could think about was a hot shower, and she smiled and imagined the scalding water burning away the stink of the day.

But she couldn’t make her legs work yet, just leaned against the brick wall of the station, taking in mouthful after mouthful of smoke. She still needed to punch out, but she was in no hurry to step foot back inside. The smell of shit hovered in there like dense fog.

The doors swung out and, even without turning to see who it was, she knew it was Jennings. His labored breathing and grunts of exertion as he walked his fat ass through the entrance announced his arrival. She could hear his tongue clicking as it stuck and unstuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Hey there, dead eye,” he said, bumped her arm as he shuffled past to face her. “How bout we get a bite to eat, huh? On me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She almost jammed her cigarette into his sunken eye.

“I’m starved. Thought I’d be nice, extend an invitation.” He massaged his stomach and swallowed a mouthful of spit.

“Is that all you ever do is eat? Makes me fucking sick,” Lola said as she stomped her cigarette out. “And I could’ve used some help. Too busy stuffing Chinese food into that hole on your fat head.” Even though her face burned with embarrassment from her harsh words, it felt damn good to feel them catapult from her lips. She kept her eyes hard as she looked up from her crushed cigarette to Jennings’s face.

But her superior officer didn’t even acknowledge the insult. His eyes had gone blank, lips hanging from his face and glistening with saliva. The rumbling of his stomach sounded like a passing semi.

“Jennings?”

“I’m…hungry.”

Lola turned when she heard the scraping of shoes against the sidewalk. A man walked by, thumbing the screen of his cell phone, a sandwich in his other hand. Meat flapped from between the bread as he walked, and without looking away from his phone, he took a bite.

Jennings grunted and ran his tongue over his plump, pink lips. His head swiveled and his eyes stayed pinned on the man as he went by. Without another word to Lola, he followed the man down the sidewalk. The sandwich man had no idea he was being pursued, and Lola had flashes of the fat man in the restaurant, flaying the meat away from the woman’s leg with his teeth.

She tried not to let her imagination wander and ran her fingers through her hair. The nails scraping against her scalp felt good. Her eyelids slid shut and she let her weight sag against the brick wall behind her.