who always stayed behind to turn off the lights.
He thought that devotion belonged to him.
It never did.
It belonged to the person I had once been—the woman who believed darkness would consume everything unless she personally prevented it.
I no longer feared the dark.
I crossed the parking lot beneath the Colorado sky carrying only my handbag and the keys to my own home.
Behind me, Northline’s windows went dark one by one.
The company was safe.
The employees were safe.
The work would continue tomorrow.
And this
