Earlier that day, during my lunch break, I’d been scrolling through social media when a public video of Kinsley popped into my feed. She was doing a little dance on her front porch. The caption read in bright pink letters: “Home alone until 8 PM! So bored!”
But that wasn’t the terrifying part.
Right behind her, perfectly in focus in the bright afternoon sun, was her house number painted on the porch pillar. And in the background, over her shoulder, was the recognizable green street sign at the corner of her block.
Without realizing it, that sweet girl had just broadcast an exact map, a specific location, and a lonely schedule to the entire internet. She had announced to anyone watching that she was an unprotected target.
Now, pulling up to her stop at 3:15 PM, my worst fear was parked just up the street.
Kinsley hopped off the bus, completely oblivious, her headphones on, staring down at her glowing screen. She didn’t even glance at the black car whose engine was quietly humming.
