I live alone

2

2

I step out into the world closing the door behind me. The air is warm, and the lamp outside is motion activated. The tall grass tickles my ankles, and the bugs race past my face toward the lamp. I swat the bugs away, and scratch my ankles. The sky is so dark, and the dark is so quiet.

As I walk down the block I try to commit the place to memory just in case I ever want to paint it. The apartment buildings all have freshly clipped grass and empty trash cans, which is more than I can say about my place. I turn around and stand there looking at my house. The amount of overgrowth around the place makes it look nearly abandoned. I keep walking. With my head down and my hands deep in my pockets because it's chilly and I forgot to bring a jacket. I feel someone watching me. I don't like it when the roles are reversed. It's dark, but it's not night; there are people around, but not that many. There are eyes on me. I look up and ahead of me I see an older woman who I recognize sitting outside on the pouch of her building. She owns the place, and I see her sitting out there occasionally. I can't decide whether or not I should say something neighborly like,"Have a good evening, Ms.Robinson!" and wave or just keep walking. I wonder if she even knows who I am. Once I'm directly in front of the building I look up and raise my arm to wave. "Hello, Ms.Robin.."

I realize then that she's asleep. I stuff my hand back into my pocket and keep walking.

I make random turns and end up in quiet neighborhood. I think I'm being dared to make noise, to yell. The streets are so empty. It makes me want to stomp as I walk because I get enough silence at home. I'm not here to go on being myself.

But I don't yell or stomp, I wouldn't want to get arrested for being a nuisance.

I see a sign of life: the lights on in a McDonald's down the next block, so I walk to it.

The most rebellious thing I've done in the past year is kick a rock on my way to a McDonald's in a quiet neighborhood at 10:47pm. The rock tumbles into the drain, I never here it hit the bottom.

I pull the handle and there is no one else inside. The cashiers look very bored. I order a hot chocolate to go, without the caramel sauce or whipped cream. I try not to make eye contact with the cashier while my drink is being made. Except that's exactly what I always do, so I start to make deliberate eye contact. I want to know: How will people react? How do people act? She looks around my face, probably taking in the bags under my eyes. She looks away. That's how people react: they look away. There is music coming from the speakers in the ceiling playing very softly. I think about how dead end this whole place feels. The tables are shiney and everything is in order. The cashiers look to be about my age. Their lives must be so much more exciting than that of an accountant who works from home and occasionally sells paintings online. Where did I go wrong?

The other cashier slides my drink onto the counter in front of me and I look up at her.

"You're drink's ready," she says.

"Thank you," my voice is quieter than I intended. It's merely a whisper above the hum of their cooler.

The women exchange a glance.

I am a subtle spectacle. Maybe the most entertaining thing to happen to these two all day. Making eye contact in the middle of the night. Wearing nothing but a T-shirt and jeans in the middle of the cold. I'm even surprising myself by being so determined to leave the house that I've done so in the most unideal of ways. Am I not myself tonight? I hope so. I hope I don't resemble myself in the slightest.

But the confidence is fake. And I feel suddenly out of place. So I pull a wad of cash out of my jeans and place a couple dollars on the counter. The first cashier looks down at them then back up at me.