Everything written after 2am and tagged alone.
The silver car's dome light is on now. It wasn't before. Someone opened a door, and I haven't seen it close.
My phone rerouted me off my own exit tonight, and I wasn't even using the GPS. The part I can't explain is what came after.
If I sit still long enough the office lights click off. Tonight I didn't wave them back on, and it was the calmest I'd felt all day.
There's a kid's sock on the folding table that isn't mine. The place has been empty the whole hour, and I keep watching the door.
An hour parked in my own driveway, engine off. Trying to find the thing that would notice if I just kept driving.
3am at the empty gate, the only passenger left, listening to a recorded voice warn a terminal with no one in it.
Everyone left the office at seven. The motion lights go dark when you stop moving — and tonight they started coming on by themselves.
I know the man upstairs only by sound. Tonight there was the first shoe, and then nothing came after it.