The safest place in the world is my front porch at 3 in the morning some hot July.

Where I’m from, the heat never has a chance to leave you. It curdles the starlight. You breathe it in like when you were 8 years old and stuck your face too close to an easy bake oven.

Out here, the world is only as quiet as it needs to be. You learn to recognize each streetlight by their own glow.

Soon enough, it will be time to walk back inside.