The golden hour had barely faded into a bruised purple dusk when frantic pounding rattled our front door. When I opened it, my neighbor from two houses down collapsed against the porch railing, her knuckles white as she clung to the wood.
She was heavily pregnant, one hand protectively cradling her belly—but it was her face that stopped me cold. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot, her skin pale and hollow, like someone who had been wandering in shock for hours.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed before I could speak. “I didn’t know where else to go. I just saw your lights…”
Continue reading on the next page…