Story: A woman in a black coat went to the rear wheel of the car to lower it, touched it and stabbed it with a knife

The cold wind swept through the dimly lit parking garage as the woman in the black coat approached her car, her footsteps echoing softly against the concrete floor. She had been feeling uneasy all day, a gnawing sense of dread that had followed her like a shadow. The glimmer of the fluorescent lights reflected off her pointed heels as she navigated through the rows of vehicles. Finally, she reached the rear wheel of her car, a sleek sedan that had always felt like a fortress to her. But tonight, it felt different. With a sudden surge of determination, she knelt down and examined the wheel, a frown creasing her brow. There was something off. The way it sat against the concrete, a subtle tilt that suggested it wasn’t quite right. As she touched the rubbery surface, her fingers grazed something sharp. A metallic glint caught her eye, prompting her to pull out a knife from the folds of her coat. It was a small blade, but it held memories—of protection, of fears, and now, of something darker. In a swift motion, she stabbed the wheel, the blade sinking into the tire with a satisfying hiss as air escaped in a rush. The sound felt strangely cathartic, like a release of pent-up anger and frustration that had been building within her for so long. This wasn’t just a tire; it was a symbol of her struggles, her entrapment in a life that had begun to feel suffocating. As the air hissed out and the wheel deflated, the woman stood up, feeling an unexpected sense of clarity wash over her. She had taken control, if only for a moment. The world around her faded as she stared at the deflating tire, the shadows in the garage seeming to lean in closer as if they understood. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her mind. What had she done? There were consequences to this act, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of rebellion against the chaos that had enveloped her life. The noise of the escaping air morphed into a whisper, a reminder that she was still here, fighting against the weight of her own despair. As she turned to leave, the knife still clasped tightly in her hand, she knew this wouldn’t be the end. It was merely the beginning of a journey—one that would take her deeper into the shadows, where she would confront not just the world outside, but also the turmoil within.