Annoyed Honks
As I continued trailing the bus, a chorus of honks erupted behind me—drivers irritated by my slow, deliberate pace. “Sorry,” I muttered under my breath, as if they could hear me. But I didn’t care. My eyes stayed locked on that bus, unwavering. Nothing was going to break my focus. I tuned out the frustration of others; all that mattered was keeping Timmy in sight. The route was strange, unfamiliar, and I needed to know—had to know—what was really going on.
Annoyed Honks
Unusual Route
The longer we drove, the clearer it became that the driver was deliberately avoiding the usual roads—no Main Street, no Fifth Avenue, not a single familiar landmark in sight. A slow, urgent pressure began building in my chest, that simmering need to act. It was like the bus was weaving through a different town entirely, and my car had become an extension of it, unwilling to break away. I stayed locked on, refusing to lose track. What was going on with this route—and why was no one else noticing?
Unusual Route
