Recurring Thoughts
Clutching the steering wheel tightly, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling with worry, looping the same anxious questions over and over. My motherly instincts screamed at me to protect Timmy, and I clung to the hope that answers were just around the corner. Every puddle the bus splashed through felt like another hurdle between us and the truth. All I could focus on was getting closer to whatever was haunting my son—chasing that mystery through the rain, desperate to understand.
Recurring Thoughts
Stops for Bus Service
At every stop, I watched as kids climbed aboard the bus—some laughing with friends, others quietly brushing off the rain and taking their seats. I kept a careful distance, hoping no one would notice the car that seemed to follow too closely. My eyes stayed locked on Timmy, searching for any flicker of discomfort as each new student joined him. With every mile, my focus sharpened; I was determined to uncover the hidden reason behind his fear.
Stops For Bus Service
