Time slowed. My legs refused to move. My mind grasped for comprehension, for a rational explanation, but nothing came.
There is fear, and then there is the kind of fear that makes your stomach twist, your chest tighten, and every second stretch into eternity. This was beyond fear. It felt like watching the world collapse while being unable to stop it.
We lived in a quiet working-class neighborhood outside Columbus, Ohio. It was the kind of place where everyone waved from their driveway, where children rode bicycles until the streetlights came on, and where people still shoveled each other’s sidewalks after snowstorms.
