I rode Sharey the bikeshare bike by the park where I used to give a woman without a home named Shari half my Sweet Auburn Curb Market wrap, right when a string of emergency vehicles pulled up, sirens blaring.
I saw the first responders run past the shopping cart overflowing with someone’s life’s belongings. They leaned down one at a time, in succession. Their arms moved rhythmically as they compressed someone’s chest, and I stood and watched for what seemed like ages — a lifetime. I don’t know if he — or she — lived or died that day. I didn’t see anything about this person in the news, and thus I have nothing more to share.