Ella
The crisp air bit at my cheeks as I walked the familiar route to work on Monday morning. The city, with its towering buildings and crowded streets, was awake and buzzing with the day’s promise.
I felt well-rested after my exciting weekend, and ready to tackle whatever else came my way. Even though memories of what had transpired at the wedding shower and what-ifs about the potential meeting with my parents whirled around my head, I felt at least clear-headed enough to get started on figuring it all out.
However, the moment of tranquility was disrupted by a sudden commotion—yelling, to be precise.
“My purse! Stop! My purse!”
Without a second thought, my feet veered off the path, following the source of the distressed cries. It was an old woman, clutching her bag w
