This Is How to Dance With Loss
A love letter for the broken
The dispatcher’s voice startled me. It was 3 AM and I was parked in a lonely, empty lot in the north end of town. I liked parking there because it was quiet, and I could get my reports done.
“Code 7 at Oak Tree Villa,” the dispatcher continued over the radio. In other police agencies, Code-7 meant “lunch break.” Unfortunately, in my…