There are nights when I come home to a dark house. And if I were alone I would expect that. But I am not. And my phone has no messages. And it’s quiet. Too quiet. It’s quiet because no one is home. They are elsewhere and I realize that loneliness is not my greatest fear. It is being left. That I am not the better option. That I am alone, not by choice, or in the name of solitude.
But because no one has claimed me.