Let’s see if Tutor Girl’s made a habit out of walking alone in the dark. A few hours later, and there she is, crossing the dimly lit street. I want to call out her name, slam her for her reckless choice, and do it again when she rolls those eyes at my rant. But then she shifts, and the shitty streetlight catches something small on the inside of her jacket. A name badge. She shifts again and I make out the logo on her top, but it’s not a top. It’s an apron from the burger place down the road. She was at work. She’s walking home alone, late as shit at night, from work.
