Love in the Time of Serial Killers

by Alicia Thompson

I’d rather be seen as a little rude than risk being taken to a second location.

Secrecy was a practical necessity if you had something to hide; politeness was social chloroform.

Lately it felt like my entire life was one big AITA thread and the answer was always yes, it’s me, I’m the asshole.

“Equating an occupation’s projected societal ethos with an individual’s personal morality is one reason why our police force is so fucked in this country.”

Sam looked like he gave great hugs, and I’d wanted one so bad. Disgusting.

Things got so much more complicated when you actually cared if someone sent you a text, or accepted an invitation, or wanted to hang out.