Until it wasn’t.
Because the next thing I remember—the thing that broke the rhythm of the moment entirely—was a flash of motion from the side of the building. A small figure, barefoot, running hard enough that her steps sounded uneven against the pavement. Before anyone could react, before anyone even fully registered her presence, she climbed onto the hood of the police car.
Not hesitantly. Not like a child unsure of her place. She climbed with urgency, like the ground itself wasn’t safe enough.
And then she stood there.
Arms stretched wide.
As if she could physically stop something from happening.
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