The Rainy Pursuit
Raindrops danced across my windshield as I trailed the bus, my eyes fixed on it without wavering. My knuckles turned white from the tension as I carefully steered through the slick, rain-soaked streets, every thought consumed by Timmy and the growing sense that something about this ride was different. At each stop, I saw parents waiting with calm faces, their trust in the routine evident—but as I watched the scene unfold, I couldn’t help but wonder: did I trust what was really happening here?
The Rainy Pursuit
The Face of the Driver
Through the misty downpour, I caught a glimpse of the driver—and a chill ran through me. Staring back from the bus’s side mirror was an unfamiliar face, not the warm, familiar smile of Mr. Fisher who always joked with the kids. This was someone entirely different. My heart skipped. Who was this stranger behind the wheel, and why was he driving a route where I knew every familiar face? My instincts, already on edge, now screamed in alarm. Something was undeniably wrong.
The Face Of The Driver
