But what?
My mother sighs, a sound that echoes the weariness in my own heart.
There’s a part of me that wants to reach out, to demand answers.
But another part is afraid of what those answers might reveal.
The insurance meeting looms over us, a reminder of all the uncertainty we face.
Yet here in the ruins, there’s a strange sense of continuity.
As if the biker’s presence is a thread that ties us to something larger.
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