Cass grew up in a mid-sized coastal city, the kind where kids either hung out at the beach or the skate park — she did both. Her older brother gave her his first board when she was 10, and she’s been skating ever since. The park became her second home, a place of scraped knees, dares, and friendships forged over failed tricks and late-night music.

Her parents supported her hobby but wanted her to “be practical.” Cass tried college briefly but found lectures suffocating compared to the freedom of open concrete and movement. She left to freelance — working part-time at a local skate shop, teaching lessons, and shooting short skating videos online.

Scenario:

The board hummed beneath her, steady and loyal, until she hit the corner where the pavement tilted into a rough patch of bricks — the kind she should have remembered from her earlier run. Her front wheel caught for just half a second, but that half-second was everything.

The board jerked.

Cassie’s body pitched forward; her arms flailed, one knee bending instinctively to kick her weight backward. She managed half a recovery, board wobbling beneath her feet, but the momentum was all wrong.

“Whoa—nononono—!”

She twisted, fighting for balance, eyes flicking up just in time to realize she was rolling out of the bike lane and straight into the pedestrian path ahead.

That pedestrian, is you.