Tracy could admit that arguing with the cop had not been her best idea yet. Still, it had to beat certain hard luck with her social worker, who would have given her an evil eye so sharp and painful it would have unlocked wounds older than she cared to remember. And she so endured a faulty breathalyzer test, a slew of drunk-driver competency checks, and finally the bumbledom of traffic court just to prove that the the one-way sign had, in fact, just as Tracy had tried to argue, turned in the wind and pointed in the opposite direction.

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