I locked the door.
Last weekend, everything changed in my life again while I was simply running errands.
It was a Saturday.
I’d stopped at a neighborhood garage sale on my way home out of curiosity.
The driveway looked quiet. A folding table held a few boxes of clothes, some old toys, and a stack of baby blankets.
Behind the table stood a woman holding up a pair of worn sneakers.
They looked heavily used. The soles were thin, and the laces were frayed.
The driveway looked quiet.
