I can’t shake it off.  I’ve tried walking around the park, going to the hardware store, picking up groceries, even waiting in line at the bank, thinking all these various activities would take my mind off what is gnawing at me right now.

Two hours ago, while working in my home office upstairs, I heard the skidding and screeching of a car as someone screamed while another person was yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Get out of the car, you *%$&#!  Don’t #$*&^ mess with me!”

Moving toward the window, I saw a car lurch and halt, eventually stopping right in front of our house.

More screams.

“I’m telling you, get the @*%^* out of my car now!”

I was paralyzed.  What was happening?  Who are these people?  Light blue four door sedan, tinted front windows, small white dog in the back seat up against the back window. The backside of a person silhouetted in the front window.

“No!” I hear someone yell and then more screams.

My phone is in my hand and I’m punching in 9-1-1 when suddenly the car door flings open and out jumps/falls/tumbles what I believe is a woman with waist length white and purple hair.  I don’t get a look at her face because she starts running up the street as fast as she can while the driver of the car pulls away in the opposite direction.

Then, as quickly the space outside my window was disrupted and filled with loud tension, there is total silence.

I often wonder what goes on behind closed doors, in moving cars, in people’s heads.  Mostly I don’t have a clue, I just create scenarios of what people may be going through.  Like when I see someone alone on a park bench, ‘maybe they’re waiting for a friend.’  If I spot someone who looks as if they’ve just finished crying, ‘probably just suffered a devastating break up.’ Or when I encounter a parent trying to manage one or more children throwing a tantrum, ‘I would trade places with anyone, anywhere right now.’

My world is just that, my world.  My thoughts and ideas and frustrations and joys stay within me unless I choose to share them.  Sometimes they are so close to the surface that I laugh out loud or explode or break down crying.  But usually I have time to find a place to do it where no one sees me.

That’s why today’s event, with me as a voyeur, is kicking me in the gut.  I have jumped out of a moving car once, stupid move.  But I haven’t been pushed out.  Why was ‘he’ so angry?  What was ‘she’ doing in the car? And why did this all unfold where I could see it, hear it, and yet did nothing about it?

Before I hit the ‘send’ button on my phone after punching in 9-1-1 the woman with the long white and purple hair was out of sight.  By the time I ran downstairs to see if the driver was still nearby, the light blue car was nowhere to be seen.

I’m left with my scenarios, and I don’t like any of them. These two strangers are in distress, that’s all I’m sure of.  Which is why this pit in my stomach won’t go away.

Deep breathing, that’s my next step.