Chapter 56
Chapter 56: The Final Encounter
A month after the park opening, I was driving through Richmond on my way back from a consulting meeting. I stopped at a quiet, roadside gas station near the highway to fill my tank.
As I walked toward the small convenience store to buy a bottle of water, a woman walked out of the side door carrying a plastic bucket and a mop. She was wearing the faded blue apron of a commercial cleaning service.
It was Sabrina.
We were less than ten yards apart. The afternoon sun hit her face, showing every deep line of hardship, exhaustion, and age. She looked at me, her eyes widening as she recognized my face, my expensive tailored coat, and the sleek modern car parked by the pump.
I stopped. The permanent civil restraining order meant she had to leave immediately, but for a long, silent five seconds, neither of us moved.
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Sabrina didn't yell. She didn't look angry. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her mop bucket with a profound, bone-deep humilation. She didn't say a single word. She slowly turned around and walked back inside the utility closet, shutting the door behind her.
I walked back to my car, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine. There was no anger left in my heart. There was no need for retaliation. Seeing her realize the absolute, undeniable distance between our lives was the most complete sentence the universe could have handed down. I put the car in drive and pulled onto the highway, leaving her in the rearview mirror for the very last time.
