It was late afternoon on a quiet stretch of road just outside town, the kind where most people tend to drive right past without a second glance.
I was sitting in my car, waiting for the bus to come.
Lost in my phone when the commotion caught my eye.
A woman, visibly pregnant, had suddenly collapsed on the side of the road.
Everyone in the small cluster of vehicles slowed down but kept moving.
Then, unexpectedly, the biker — the one everyone around here warns their kids about — pulled over and was the only one who got out.
I watched as he crouched beside her, his rough exterior softening in a way no one expected.
The air felt thick, like no one wanted to acknowledge what they’d just seen or perhaps were too quick to judge.
It wasn’t what happened next, really, but the way people shifted away after the fact.
It didn’t add up, something about the whole scene felt off, unresolved.
