The car squealed to a stop and I jumped out of the dinged up vehicle. I ran on the cement ramp that led me down to the Wilmington Friends Meeting’s undercroft door like I would usually do on a Wednesday evening. Grasping the cold metal vertical bar in my baseball sized fists, right over the left. I yanked, then again and again as the door clanked repeatedly. Realizing the door was locked I twirled around. Only to realize my dad vanished out of the alley. I started to panic and tears streamed down my pale face. Beating my fists “thud, thump, thud” onto the black chipped railing that led the path down the ramp. The alley where the car had once sat a few moments ago now was replaced with potholes here and there with grass growing through the cracks.