I believe that it’s true, as true anyway as a fragment of a story is ever true. The person who told it had recently experienced it, and felt it strongly. It was a truthful moment, if you understand me, when the story was told.
She had come upon an accident as it too suddenly happened. A car, an old woman, a man with a baby carriage.
The driver of the car left the car and stood on the edge of the accident explaining that it wasn’t his fault. The old woman, the man with the baby carriage, had just stepped into the street in front of him. Yes, both of them.
The man lying on the ground, the man who’d been pushing the carriage, said, “Baby?…” Not able to form a whole sentence. Dying.
While the driver stood to the side constructing his alibis, the broken man on the pavement asked after the child in the carriage.
And yes, I think they told him. Before he died.
The baby was safe.