craiyon logo

A man sits in the caged back seat of a police car parked on a dark, cobblestone street at night, with no driver visible.

A man sits in the caged back seat of a police car parked on a dark, cobblestone street at night, with no driver visible.

the front window of the car he looked in. As he had expected, there was no one in the front seat, no one in the car at all. "Get in." He put his hand to the door and peered into the back seat, which was a little cell, a little black jail with bars. It smelled of riveted steel. It smelled of harsh antiseptic; it smelled too clean and hard and metallic. There was nothing soft there. "Now if you had a wife to give you an alibi," said the iron voice. "But-" "Where are you taking me?" The car hesitated, or rather gave a faint whirring click, as if information, somewhere, was dropping card by punch-slotted card under electric eyes. "To the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies." He got in. The door shut with a soft thud. The police car rolled through the night avenues, flashing its dim lights ahead. generate me a picture based on this description its going to be a police car the man is in the BACK seat of the police car and there will be no driver Mehr sehen