Escape
The drive to the bar was a blur of red lights and honking horns. I pulled into the parking lot of the downtown lounge, the neon sign buzzing above the entrance. Inside, the chatter of my friends was a warm, familiar hum.
We clinked glasses, the ice clinking against the crystal, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease, if only a little. The night stretched out, drinks flowing, laughter spilling into the corners of the room.
“To freedom,” I toasted, the word tasting sweet on my tongue.
We talked about work, about the weather, about the ridiculousness of dating apps. My mind kept drifting back, though, to the sound of the bathroom door slamming, to the echo of his panic.
At one point, my friend Maya leaned in, her eyes bright. “You look different, Jess. Like you finally decided to take control.”
I smiled, a thin line, and said, “Maybe I finally did.”
