36#36

36

The chill of the park bench seeped through my clothes as I sat, distant sounds of merriment seeming to come from another realm entirely. I felt out of place amidst this scene of joy, my thoughts a whirlwind of guilt and uncertainty.

Where could I seek refuge? Who would offer me sanctuary now?

Suddenly, like a beacon in the gloom, I recalled her—the elderly woman who had sheltered me when I fled through Manheim's streets. She had provided sanctuary without prying. Even now, she remained my sole hope.

I rose quickly, brushing off my coat. My motorcycle waited nearby, and as I fired up the engine, its rumble centered me. I had a goal, a direction. The old woman would surely aid me once more. She must.

The cramped streets of her neighborhood were as tense as I remembered. Figures lurked at the edges of my vision, and I sensed eyes upon me. I concealed my bike carefully, striving to avoid notice. Each step felt heavier, the oppressive quiet enveloping me.