The Chair by the Window — The Night Nobody Helped Me

We met in a public café, where she arrived with an envelope containing a handwritten note.

“I kept thinking I should have stayed,” she said.

“I was scared of losing my job.

I should have gone back in.”

“You tried to call for help,” I said.

She shook her head.

“I should have told the dispatcher more.

I kept worrying they’d say I was exaggerating.”