Safe.
Even if home is a tiny, one-bedroom apartment with nobody waiting for me.
No husband.
No boyfriend.
No kids.
Hell, I don't even have a cat.
Not because I don't want one.
I love cats.
But my hours are so terrible I'd feel guilty leaving some poor furry little thing alone all day while I pull doubles and pick up extra shifts.
Story of my life, really.
Thirty-seven years old, curvy enough that every magazine insists I should spend my life hiding beneath flowy tops, and still waiting for a happily ever after that apparently got lost in the mail.
My sister says I should try online dating again.
I'd rather eat broken glass.
The last guy I matched with spent forty minutes explaining cryptocurrency to me and another twenty asking if I'd ever considered losing weight.
Like being fat was the worst thing I could be.
Much worse than being a shallow, vapid fuckhead.
Oh yeah.
Romance truly is alive and well.
I sigh and crack open one eye.
The train car is mostly empty this time of night.
A college kid asleep with his backpack clutched to his chest.
An older woman knitting.
A businessman snoring softly two rows ahead.
Normal.
Quiet.
Exactly what I need.
They get off at the next stop.
A couple of kids get on.
I ignore them at first.
Then someone yells.