"Wait for them? What? Why?"
Ruth's voice sliced through the stillness as she faced me, confusion mixed with worry. I noticed the tension in her eyes—a silent plea for answers—while my own mind churned under the weight of our situation. The car interior pulsed with the gentle thrum of the engine and the thudding of my heart as I fought to steady my breathing. I knew that in moments like these, every word, every decision, could weigh survival and disaster.
"You'll see," I rasped, my voice rough as if a fistful of raspberries had made a home in my throat. I did not explain; sometimes the moment only allowed for succinctness.
