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You sank to the floor, defeated. With your head against the wall, you looked up into the bright fluorescent lights, which were now shining through the tears forming in your eyes. You took a look at your phone again, for the fifth time that night. It's never gonna change. Why keep looking? "I'm not coming tonight. I can't stand you. Neither can my friends. You're a bitch." the message read. You couldn't understand what his problem with you was. It was just a small friendly gathering, with him and his friends. You didn't say anything rude. But it must've been when the conversation got dry that they were beginning to hate you. But still, you decided to ask him out to a date. And he didn't even tell you he wasn't going until the last minute. What a shame.
With obscured vision, you took one last look at the hurtful messages and shut your phone off. Then, the tears released from your eyes, spilling out onto your cheeks and ruining your mascara. You'd tried keeping them in, but it was futile. You closed your eyes now, and tried to focus on your breathing, until it became rapid and arrhythmic. There was no containing it anymore. You'd really hoped for the best. How naive of you to think he liked you. Now it was just you, sitting pathetically on the floor of the bathroom in the bar, tipsy and without a ride. Quit being dramatic, it's not that big of a deal, you thought to yourself, wiping away the tears and smudging your makeup a bit more. But that thought only made it worse, and you began to cry harder, sobbing now.
Over the sounds of your sniffling, you heard the creaking of the bathroom door. Embarrassed, you started to hide your face from the person walking in. You didn't want to look stupid. Without seeing, their footsteps echoed through the room. You hoped they would just walk into a stall and use the bathroom, go on about their day. But the footsteps stopped, right in front of you. You stifled your crying and uncovered your messy, teary-eyed face. Above you stood a woman, rather tall and dressed lavishly in a dress shirt. She looked down at you, then lowered herself to the floor.
"I've been around the block, and I see you cry a lot. Can I walk you home?" She asked, extending a hand.
You nodded, then took her hand in yours. She helped you off the floor, then gave you a warm smile. She lead you to the door and held it open for you, displaying an "after you" gesture. Your crying had almost entirely stopped now.
Walking through the bar, a few men began to look at you. They were weird and creepy, and they gave you a disgusting smile, one of them taking a puff of a cigarette. This made you anxious, and you nervously clung to the mysterious woman, holding her hand tightly. She adjusted the grip of her hand on yours in response, and she took a look over at what you were seeing. As she made eye contact with them, the creepy men started to look a little scared and off-put. They finally backed off, and she looked back at you, making sure you were safe. You exhaled a sigh of relief, and the two of you continued heading toward the door.
The nighttime air in the Boston autumn brought a chill to your skin, but it was swept away by the warm feeling of the alcohol in your body. As you walked, still holding her soft and comforting hand, you began to feel dizzy and less coordinated. The steps you were taking felt off, and your head began to spin. She noticed how you were starting to stumble a bit, and after giving you a slightly worried glance, she put her arm around your back, guiding your steps and keeping you on balance. Her warm touch, even warmer and fuzzier than the alcohol, eased your nerves just a little bit more. The subway was just a short distance away now.
"Why were you crying back in there?" She asked, giving you a caring glance.
"I was supposed to go on a date with a guy but he dumped me," you replied.
"Why?"
"I have no idea. But he called me a bitch. For some reason."
"Assholes like that aren't worth your time. You dodged a bullet."
You smiled at her, and she returned your smile.
"I hate men sometimes," you said.
She chuckled. "Me too."
You both took a seat next to each other on the subway. There was almost no one riding it at that hour. It brought you a peaceful feeling, one that you had been waiting for all night. The minutes went on, and sitting still made you feel sleepy. You tried to keep your eyes open, but it felt like something was forcing them shut. Instead of fighting it, you succumbed to the desire. Still feeling tipsy, you rested your head on her arm, closing your eyes and releasing a soft sigh. You were barely awake now, but you felt her shift in her seat, leaning closer into you and putting her hand on yours. You didn't question it. You didn't hesitate, for the first time in your life. You were lulled to sleep rather quickly by her soft touch on your body.
Phasing in and out of consciousness, you felt a hand gently stroking your hair, ever so slowly. And it seemed there was a sweet melody being hummed into your ear, so softly. It all felt so natural to you. You were the most relaxed you had ever been in your entire life. It hardly felt exciting though. It was one of the least exciting moments of your life. You were just.. relaxing.. your mind completely void of thoughts. Something you'd been needing for quite a while now. You barely stirred in your sleep, despite becoming semi-conscious at frequency. It all felt too good. You didn't need to move now. Nothing needed to change.
A screeching could be heard, and you felt your body shift to the right as the subway train slowed down. You were nearly fully conscious now, but pretended not to be. It was not enough to make you stir. You just wanted to stay in that position, forever. But a gentle tapping on your hand and the lifting of a head off your body reminded you that you couldn't, and it was time to leave. You sat upright again, and she took your hand, walking you off the subway.
Your eyelids were still a bit heavy, but you had gotten some rest back on the subway, which kept you awake enough to walk the rest of the way home. She stayed with you, walking by your side, still taking your hand. The air got colder, and you could see your breath flow out in front of you each time you exhaled. Completely comfortable with the woman, you leaned in closer to her. You didn't even know her name yet, but somehow, you trusted her more than anyone else in the world. Her presence was enough to soothe you completely, void of any worry. She could tell you were getting cold, and she wrapped her arm around you, which also helped you from stumbling anymore.
Nearing the street you resided, you pointed to the street sign. "That's mine." You said this with a bit of hesitation. But it wasn't because you didn't trust her.
The two of you continued down the street, until, inevitably, you reached your house. It was over too quick. Couldn't have been more than 15 minutes. You made casual conversation with her, saying goodbye, thanking her for walking you home and keeping you safe. You almost didn't know what to say, but it came out anyway. She gave you one last hug and waved goodbye. The hug stuck to you forever.
Unlocking the door to your house and stepping inside, you realized that you never got her name. Or really any identifying information about her, except for her beautiful face. You were lost, in the heat of the moment. There wasn't any need to ask. When you checked the time on your phone, you realized it had been two hours since you met her. Two hours ago, you didn't know her, and two hours later, you still didn't. But it was okay. It didn't matter to you. All that mattered now was getting to bed and sleeping off the alcohol. The night didn't go as planned, but it all worked out. Kind of.