“Text me when you get home”

• Sara Browne

The walk across the street will test my nerves. I cross my fingers, clutch my keychain mace in hoping there’s just space under the car. (this episode seems too familiar) Eleven twice I see atop the dash I click the lock at least eleven times. Impatience creeps, backseats await the gas, my music blasts to drown out any fear. I question palpitations in my chest, no time to walk among the moon and stars. Next door, nearby, all neighbors went to bed at nine. No danger waits behind that bush, this time yet quick consistent runs inside persist.

The dark, no childish, simple fear of mine, just all that comes with staying out at night.

Cycling Thoughts

• Sophie Cullen