The Second Key

Today I walked out of a job and I don't feel bad about it.

Devon was nice. Bright apartment. Ninety minutes smooth. Then I went to pack up and I saw a second key on the hook by the door. Half a protein bar on the counter. Her husband was "at the gym until seven." It was 6:47.

I heard the lock turn.

My hands were fast. Kit packed. Out by 6:52. No tip. Billed anyway. I don't care about the tip.

I have a folder in my head. It's small. It's for people I do not go back to. Devon is in it now. The folder is getting too big this year.

The thing I won't say out loud: I am tired of reading rooms for danger. I am tired of being the one who has to see the key, hear the lock, and move. Most nights I just want to do hair and go home.

But I got home tonight. So I did it right.