I've been wandering aimlessly for blocks now, taking detours I don't need, glancing at every stranger like they might be the one. Practically hunting the streets like some love-struck teenager, hoping the universe will drop my soulmate right in front of me.
As if.
Rolling my eyes, I scoff at the joy brimming in my chest, the expectation that this is it. That it’s really going to happen when I know I’m just setting myself up for disappointment.
He’s not just going to fall out of the sky and sweep me off my feet. But no matter how much I try to kill it, the hope stays there, like a light refusing to go out.
I can't stop noticing the couples everywhere—holding hands, sharing inside jokes, that easy intimacy I've always craved. And I want that so badly.
Of course I’ve thought of putting myself out there again. But trusting someone, knowing I could end up brokenhearted once again, is hard to come to terms with.
I don't want to make another mistake. I don't want to waste years of my life with someone who doesn't respect me and won't devote themselves to me.
But I'm not going to find that here tonight. Or maybe at all.
The negative thought hits me like a punch to the gut, and I slump forward. I should just give up and go home to lick my wounds. Maybe curl up on the couch with the leftover Thai food in my fridge, and binge watch a show. Anything to keep my mind quiet.
I take the subway to my stop then start the familiar walk home, pulling my jacket tighter against the late-night chill.
The streets are busier than usual for a Thursday night, groups of people heading to bars and restaurants. But as I get closer to my neighborhood, the crowds thin out, and I can hear a group of guys getting loud outside the bodega—shouting, laughing, breaking glass.
No doubt they're drunk.
Not wanting any trouble, my options are to walk past them and deal with whatever comments or attention that might bring or cut through the narrow alley behind the buildings that comes out on the next street over, a block from my apartment.
I peer down the alley. It's quiet, empty. My gut clenches at the thought of using it, but no one enters or exits. I don't want to take it, but it seems like the safest choice.
With a sigh, I turn into the alley. But after a third of the way through, something begins to feel... wrong.
The alley is darker than I first realized. I scan the buildings and doors but nothing's changed. I try to listen harder, beyond the sounds of water dropping and rats scurrying through littered trash.
Footsteps.
They're heavy, slightly rushed. A man.
It’s just another person taking the same shortcut. Don’t worry.
But when I slow down, they slow down. When I speed up, they match my pace.
I clutch my purse tighter, my heart thundering. It's okay. You're almost there.
"Hey, Red."
The voice is close. Too close.
I spin around and there's a man maybe ten feet behind me. His eyes bloodshot and unfocused, like he's on something. And then he grins. "What's a pretty thing like you doing walking alone, Red?"
I back away, fumbling in my bag for my phone. "Leave me alone."
"Can't do that." He steps closer, and now I can smell him—unwashed skin and something chemical that makes my nose burn.
I take a slow, careful, step back, trying to put some distance between us.
"Aw, now. Don't be like that. I'm just looking for some company." He takes another step, closing the distance. "And whatever you got in that purse."
Shit!
Run.
