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Rider
It’s funny how people never seem to notice things.
You see the broken car by the edge of the highway, the gas leaking out of the tank, dripping slowly down onto asphalt. You note the smashed windows, the tires slashed into thin strips, and the woman dead in a darkened red puddle.
And then you realize that there’s a girl struggling against several men who are trying to kidnap her.
But it’s like nothing ever happened. I saw them all pass, as if nothing was wrong with the body of the woman and the girl who is trying to escape. I saw them, flickering with hope in my chest, wishing that this was all a dream. The beatings slowly grew fainter and fainter as I realized that no one was going to stop and help the unfortunate being.
Not a single person stopped. The highway was at rush hour.
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