The biker looked up. Tears streamed into his beard, his eyes red and raw. “Someone hit her and kept going,” he said, voice cracking. “She dragged herself into the ditch. I heard her crying when I rode past.”
The anguish in his face made me ashamed. I’d spent years crossing the street to avoid men like him. And here he was, stopping his ride to save a dying animal.
I surprised myself. “My car’s faster than your bike. Let me drive you.”
He stared at me for a moment, like he wasn’t sure I was real. Then he nodded. “Thank you. God, thank you.”
We ran to my car. He slid into the back seat, still cradling the puppy. I drove faster than I ever have, checking the mirror constantly.Continue reading…