We cut slowly across the parking lot, moving three stores down from the one we were just in. Were we anyone else, we would likely have abandoned the car at the first store and then walked to the second. But we are not like everyone else, so we took the car. We pulled out slowly, we gingerly made the approach.
And we came to the speed bumps.
“Honey, it’s alright. Just go over them slow,” she tells me, but I can see out of the corner of my eye the flicker of trauma remembered shadow her face and wordlessly I take the wheel and turn it left, driving down to the end of the row where I turn right and then right again for the simple sake of avoiding the speed bumps.
The drivers behind us are slightly confused, as two cars that were waiting have already gone over by the time we are back on the other side. If we were like everyone else, we would have driven over the speed Bumps in the parking lot of Portofino like there was nothing to even pause and consider.
But we are not like everyone else.



