Crayvin
Cassandra is like a fine whiskey; one that doesn't need a chaser after you take a shot. A whiskey that was so pure and delicious by itself that you can drink it on the rocks straight.
No, not drink... sip. Then savor.
She is like a fine whiskey you would order from the top shelf and not dare ruin it by adding coke to it, but by simply sipping what you get and enjoying every drop.
Every minute that goes by for the remainder of our shift today is like torture to me. I have to remain professional when alone in the unit with her. I forcefully refrain myself from the piece of s**t that we pull over and have to conduct a sobriety test on, while his eyes undress Cassandra's uniform.
That is a tough one for me. Jealousy is not something I am familiar with.
Or at least... not until he
