Listening to her story
It was already 11:30 p.m., a time when the world outside usually settled into silence. Every passing second stretched painfully, feeding her growing panic. The dispatcher listened carefully, the sound of typing steady in the background, punctuating Linda’s words. Each click felt like a reminder that the seriousness of the situation was sinking in. Her plea for help echoed through the still kitchen, clinging to the walls like an unanswered prayer.
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