There is a man relentlessly scrubbing the backseat of his car. He frantically scrubs with an intensity you would expect a professional athlete to have.
It is a very beautiful car. Black with orange racing stripes, old American muscle restored to pristine condition. Camaro SS emblem, black tires and modern rims.
He throws at least eight red rags into the trash bag and then lumbers over to the dumpster and swings the bag over the top with both hands.
He hurries back and slams the trunk with force. He speeds off without looking up.
That's when I dialed you guys.
›The brief
Sensory only. What the attendant sees through the window, nothing more. No flashback, no interior monologue beyond what observation suggests.
The last line is what the attendant decides to do after the car pulls away.