The Stranger

by Kiersten Modglin

He thinks I’m just a woman—a helpless, defenseless woman.

Sometimes, I think that’s our best weapon. Let them think we’re weak until we have to prove otherwise.

“Do I really look dangerous to you?” He shoves both hands out to his sides dramatically. I cut a quick glance his way without really looking at him. “You’re a white male in your thirties, so if you’ve watched the news, like, literally

In death, everyone becomes a hero. Otherworldly. The dead become something of myths and legends, even when everyone knows the truth.

It’s a superpower, in a way. Looking innocent when you’re anything but.

You’re too happy. Too trusting.”

“Fair enough. I’d rather be happy and trusting than bitter and jaded.” She scowls. “Because you’ve been allowed to be. For women, for me, it’s better to be bitter, jaded, and alive than too trusting and dead.”

I’m a strong, capable, independent woman, and I can open creepy closets all on my own, thank you.