Not that these scenarios are anything alike. Not like these men are.
If I think about it too much, I know I’ll stop. I already know that. I’ll stand there, overanalyze it, wait for something to feel right before I move—and it won’t.
So I don’t wait. I grab my phone, open the app, request the ride before I can second-guess it.
Three minutes away.
My chest loosens a little. That’s easier than I expected.
I move quickly after that, grabbing my bag, keeping myself in motion so I don’t stall out halfway through.
It’s just leaving.
People leave places all the time.
There’s nothing strange about it.
I just need to get outside.
Not to meet anyone or go anywhere specific. I’ll figure that part out later.
Just—out. Air that isn't this apartment. Space that isn't shaped around him. A few minutes where nothing is being directed or redirected or handled. Somewhere I have an opportunity to think.
Before he sees me trying to leave.
Before his hand finds my waist and everything softens again without me deciding it should.
I head into the hallway to the small dish on the table by the door and reach for my keys, but grab only empty space. Idouble-take, confused, glancing at the table again. They're definitely not there. That’s strange.
I put them there yesterday evening, didn’t I?
My stomach tightens faintly, but I shake it off, stepping back further into the apartment, scanning surfaces, checking places that don’t make sense. Couch. Kitchen counter. Bathroom sink.
Nothing.
My phone buzzes softly in my hand. I glance down.
Searching for driver.
I slow. That’s not what it said before.
I refresh it once, then again, watching the screen like I can force it to correct itself.
Nothing changes.
Then the request disappears entirely, like it was never there.
A thin edge of irritation cuts through the quiet. “Seriously?” I try again.
Same result. No driver. No confirmation. Just that blank screen waiting for input like I didn’t already give it one.
I switch to messages instead, my thumbs moving faster now. If the app’s being weird, I’ll just call someone. It’s not a big deal.
The message hangs halfway. Doesn’t send.
I stare at it, willing it to go through. It doesn’t.
My signal flickers—one bar, then nothing.