As night fell, the city grew quiet. Diago and I slipped out of the house, carrying our bags and hearts heavy with anticipation. The bag contained all our important documents and some new clothes and supplies Rosie and Ricky got and also all our money that Diago was holding on to. Ricky and Rosie had given us final hugs, tears, and whispered promises of safety lingering in the air.
The last bus out of the city was a rickety old thing, its faded paint and creaking joints promising a journey less than comfortable. We boarded quickly, settling into seats near the back. I kept my head down, trying to avoid drawing attention. Diago sat close to me, his presence a reassuring anchor in this storm.
As the bus rumbled to life and pulled away from the station, I stared out the window, watching the
