I was standing among the parked bicycles, oblivious, when I suddenly witnessed an unpleasant scene. Two men, seemingly trapped in their teenage years, began taunting a woman. She was walking past—jeans, a white shirt, nothing provocative. One of them smirked and called after her, “Hey, where’s your tricycle, hottie?”
My insides began to boil. My fists clenched, my h...