I make it through the rest of the morning on routine alone, one student after another, one conversation after the next, each one grounding me in a way that keeps everything else at a manageable distance.
It works well enough until lunch, when I step outside for a few minutes of quiet, needing air more than anything else.
The parking lot sits mostly full, the sun higher now, warming the asphalt in a way that makes everything feel slower, heavier.
Normal.
Except it isn’t.
My gaze moves automatically, scanning without thinking, the same way it always does when something in me feels unsettled, and that’s when I notice it.
That truck.
Parked farther out than most, angled just enough that I can’t see inside clearly from where I stand.
It could be nothing. Probably is. Why would it be here?
There are always trucks around here. This is the truck I saw the other day on my mom’s street.
There are always people coming and going, parents, contractors, deliveries. There’s no reason for this one to stand out except it does.
Except for the way something in my chest tightens when my eyes land on it. I know that is the same one I saw the other day.
I shift my weight, pretending I’m just taking in the day, letting my gaze move past it like I’m not paying attention at all, even as I catalogue everything I can without staring.
Dark color.
Tinted windows.
Engine off.
No movement inside.
I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax, forcing logic back into place where instinct is starting to take over.
You’re overthinking this.
It’s a truck in a parking lot.
That’s it.
I turn away after a second, heading back inside before I can stand there long enough to make it something bigger than it is, but the feeling doesn’t leave.
It follows me down the hallway, sits in the back of my mind through my next session, lingers just enough that I find myself glancing toward the windows without meaning to.
And I hate that.
Because I don’t scare easily.
I don’t let things get under my skin without a reason.
Which means if this feeling is here…there’s a chance it’s not as nothing as I want it to be.
By the time the final bell rings, the day has settled into something that almost feels normal again. The steady rhythm of it carrying me through one conversation after another until there’s barely space left to think about anything else. I gather a few folders from my desk. Sacking them neatly even though I could leave them for tomorrow, and take my time shutting down my computer, stretching out the last few minutes like that might make whatever’s waiting outside feel less immediate.
It doesn’t.
The hallway empties in waves, kids filing out in clusters of noise and movement that slowly fades into the late afternoon quiet. Iwait until most of them are gone before I step outside. The air is warmer now, the sun hanging lower but still bright enough to cast long shadows across the lot.
