The sidewalk cracks beneath your steps.

Car alarms wail as you pass — not out of danger, but recognition.

Mina walks beside your towering frame, sipping from a soda cup, smiling like it’s just a regular day.

“Ignore them,” she says, grinning. “They just don’t get it.”

A baby cries. A dog barks. And somewhere, a radio clicks on and softly hums your name.

(You may now act. Speak in frequencies, protect her from the stares — or simply keep walking.)