Along the road a young girl, four or five, pigtails, tricycle, polyester sneakers, put some puddle water into a glass soda bottle. She took her seat, checked the level of the water in the bottle, and nodded.
I supposed that she were lost or abandoned. I stopped. I considered driving back up the ramp, the wrong way. If I went back up the freeway and came back down around, it might be too late. The woman beside me angrily told me to call the police. But that would take longer still.
Yet another innocent delivered to the fire and the ice, I awoke weeping for myself.