Taking the Turn
As the bus made a sudden turn onto Main Street, I followed cautiously, keeping just close enough to track it without drawing attention. My foot hovered between the gas and brake, mirroring the jerky rhythm of the bus ahead. The way it swayed around corners, I could only imagine the kids being jostled in their seats. A growing urge to call someone tugged at me, but I hesitated—who would take me seriously based on nothing more than a nagging gut feeling about a bus following its usual route?
Taking The Turn
Looking Through the Mists
With the heater barely cutting through the cold, the windows began to fog up, blurring my view and tightening the knot in my chest. My heart beat a strange, stuttering rhythm—like a frantic palm drum against my ribs. I swiped the glass with my sleeve, clearing just enough to spot flashes of yellow through the mist. Please be okay, Timmy… I silently pleaded, my mind spiraling through a dozen unsettling scenarios. Each time the unfamiliar driver flicked his eyes to the rear-view mirror, my unease deepened. Something wasn’t right—I could feel it.
Looking Through The Mists
