On the way to a new job, I was stopped by security at the courthouse today after my purse went through the machine.

“Miss, are you law enforcement?”

“No,” I replied, slightly offended.

“Do you have …handcuffs in your purse?”

“Oh yeah!” I’d forgotten about them. I laughed.

“Can I see them?” As he spoke I pulled them out of my purse, two pieces of metal cuffs joined by a leather strap. Definitely not the handcuffs of a police officer. “Wa–Why…” the security stuttered. He blushed. “I mean, it doesn’t matter why. Let me… check if it’s on the list of [restricted] items.”

It was not on the list. He allowed me to proceed.

They had come in handy before, when a friend of mine forgotten her bike lock. “I can’t find my bike lock I wish I’d had something else on me like rope or–”

I’d pulled the handcuffs out of my purse. “How about these?”

She stared.

“What?” I’d asked defensively. “I needed them.”

One thought on “Handcuffs


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