I like to go on drives at night; quiet, peaceful strolls around the suburban neighborhoods.
Autumn leaves crunch under the weight of my old Sedan. I crack the window, and a crisp breeze cools my face. Pumpkin spice wafts from the kitchens of model homes, houses all painted rose and cream. This is a place where nothing bad happens, where a girl like me can live alone.
But even when the darkness falls, my hair rises with the static of a threat looming in the doorways of my home.
A presence that I know isn’t there—but then I look again.