The first person to notice was a woman named Teresa Holloway, who had stepped outside in her slippers to take out the trash and found herself standing still at the edge of her driveway, one hand gripping the bin, her eyes narrowing toward the slow, deliberate approach of motorcycles gliding down the street—not roaring, not racing, but moving with an almost unsettling quiet, one after another, like a procession that had no intention of being ignored.Continue reading…
