I instinctively stepped in front of my children.
The window rolled down.
A man looked out at me.
He was older than I was, maybe in his early forties, dressed in a dark tailored suit despite the brutal heat. His face was calm, serious, impossible to read.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
My arms tightened around Lily.
“We’re waiting for the bus.”
His eyes shifted down the empty highway.
“There hasn’t been a bus on this route in three days.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“The company shut down service. No drivers. No route.”
For a moment, everything went silent.
No bus.
No shelter.
No money.
No plan.
I looked at my children, and fear rose so quickly I could barely draw breath.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
The man stepped out of the car. Autos& Vehicles
“My name is Nathan Brooks.”
“Emily Parker,” I replied carefully. “These are my children, Noah and Lily.”
His expression softened when his eyes moved to them.
“How long have you been out here?”
I did not answer immediately.
Pride is a strange thing.
It keeps standing even when hunger is winning.
At last, I said, “Since morning.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Where are you headed?”
“Anywhere there’s work.”
He studied me.
“What kind of work?”
“Cleaning. Cooking. Childcare. Anything honest.”
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