Another quiet summer day turned chaotic over something as simple as a bicycle. I had planned to retrieve my bicycle from the house to use it for errands and commutes. It was a small step toward simplifying life amidst the ongoing challenges with Maya.
When I arrived, I spotted the bike where I had last left it in the garage. I thought I could quietly grab it and leave, but Maya intercepted me before I could even move it an inch. She accused me of taking shared property without permission, raising her voice loud enough for the neighbors to hear. To my surprise, she called the police.
The officers arrived, and I explained the situation. Despite my reasoning, they asked me to leave without the bicycle, suggesting I address the issue through legal channels to avoid further conflict. As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of how even the smallest interactions had become a battleground. The bicycle wasn’t just a means of transportation—it had become a symbol of the control Maya was determined to maintain.