Bruno: The People We Forget Even Though We Love the World
Fear teaches awareness, I think. At least that's what I've figured out over the years. In my case, fear's got four legs, a wagging tail, and this completely unpredictable enthusiasm that shows up at the worst possible moments. So like every other evening, the second I pushed through that squeaky park gate—God, when are they going to oil that thing—my whole body just... shifted gears. Dog-alert mode, I call it. My eyes started doing their usual scan. Left corner by the water fountain. Right side near the benches. Behind those overgrown bushes. Quick, automatic, the way you'd search for exits in a crowded mall during a sale. I don't even think about it anymore, honestly. It's just muscle memory now. The park was doing its usual evening thing. People everywhere—aunties in their bright track suits power-walking in pairs, couples doing that awkward almost-holding-hands thing, some guy's Bluetooth speaker playing what sounded like old Kishore Kumar songs but the ...
