The bus jerked to a halt, throwing me forward slightly. I winced as I adjusted my posture, resting a hand over my belly. At four months pregnant, even the smallest jolt seemed to knock the wind out of me. I tugged the edges of my warm, woolen dress down over my legs and pulled my cardigan tighter around me. The baby inside me shifted slightly, as if reminding me that I wasn’t just running for myself—I was running for both of us now.
A sharp chill hit me as the bus doors hissed open, and I braced myself against the cold air sweeping in. I carefully stepped off, my boots crunching against the icy ground. The wind bit at my skin, and I shivered, though the dress and cardigan helped to shield me from the worst of it.
Then I saw them—teenagers wandering the parking lot in shorts and T-shirts,
