A Baby Carrier Behind the Cleaning Cart
At first I thought it had to be a mistake.
A neighbor stepping out for a second.
A parent juggling bags and keys.
I waited for someone to call out.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Just the low mechanical hum of the elevator.
Tucked behind the half-rolled janitor’s cart was a baby carrier.
Rain had soaked the bottom.
The straps were damp, like it had been carried through a storm and left in a hurry.
