You're walking to your car, trying to think of what you can offer in place of these breadsticks the man is asking for, but there's nothing you can think of, nothing you can do. Rather than face the embarassment of admitting you lied and of an incomplete order, you quickly climb behind the wheel and speed away. You're a mile or so down the road and your heartbeat is just starting to slow when you see red and blue lights shining behind you. You pull over, heart once more pounding, and a uniformed officer walks up to the side of the car.
"We got a call that somebody was shorted an order of breadsticks," the cop says. "You know anything about that?"
Your heart is pounding harder now. They're on to you. You're trapped. There's no escape and no hope. Your heart pounds harder and harder as you search for an answer. Your stammering something, but you can't even hear yourself over the sound of your own heart beating. Your vision is blurring. Then your heart beats right out of your chest. You and the cop can see it beating there in your lap, bouncing up and down with each pulse, but it's not connected to anything now, and it's not moving oxygen-rich blood through your body anymore. All you can do is count the rapid beats as the world fades to darkness.