The sound hit like a weapon. One second I was buckling Lily into her car seat, the next my heart was slamming against my ribs as the motorcycle’s engine screamed too close, too fast. A shadow fell across us, long and sudden, and every headline I’d ever read roared to life in my skull. My fingers tightened on the car door. The parking lot shrank, the air thickened, and the stranger’s rough voice asking, “Ma’am, do you need a hand?” felt like a trap disguised as kindness. Police sirens later, flashing lights, a tiny pink shoe abandoned under sodium lamps, and a weathered man whose soft apology didn’t match the monster my fear had painted. I saw how exhaustion can twist kindness into threa… Continues…