“Be careful,” she says as I adjust the chin strap on my helmet and click the little dial in the back that makes it tight around the back of my head.
“I will,” I reply, wheeling my scooter out into the hall. She’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching me leave, her brow furrowed a little.
“Seriously, be careful,” she says again, and her face clears, a decision she’s making, and she gives me a smile before I go.
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