The gravel had been disturbed by tires, boots, and stretcher wheels.
But I still knew the exact place.
I stood on the shoulder and looked at the line of road disappearing in both directions.
Earlier that day, I had almost kept driving.
That thought came back hard.
It did not matter that I had stopped.
It did not matter that the babies were alive.
The mind has a cruel way of punishing you for the version of yourself that only existed for one second.
The version that was tired.
The version that thought, probably another prank.
I looked at the gravel where the box had been and heard again the tiny sound the little girl made inside the cruiser.
A baby asking the world to notice she still existed.
The next morning, the hospital called before my shift officially started.
Both twins had made it through the night.
The girl had responded first.
