A White Mercedes Pulled Up to Gate Six on a Tuesday Afternoon Without a Permit

“The number of the quarters.” She looked at her screen.

“They asked whether the school bus stops on that corner.”

Fourteen days put the end of my quarters on the morning of the fourteenth, the same morning the garrison board convened.

“Can I appeal it?”

“You can file.

It goes to brigade.” She pushed a pen across the counter.

“Most people don’t win.”

“Copy it first,” she said.