The office was hushed that evening, the stillness so profound that the soft whir of the air conditioning seemed to drown out my own thoughts. Past midnight, I gathered my belongings and made my way to the exit, my only desire to reach home and sink into the comfort of my bed.
As I entered the lobby, the security guard approached me, his face etched with concern. “Your ex stopped by earlier,” he said in a calm tone. “He didn’t have permission to enter, so I turned him away.”
I stopped in my tracks. My ex and I hadn’t exchanged words in months. His presence near my workplace was the last thing I expected. Before I could respond, the guard extended a small piece of paper toward me. “He left this for you. Something about it seemed… unusual. I thought you should see it.”
My pulse quickened as I unfolded the note. In handwriting I knew all too well, six words stared back at me:
“Don’t go home. Stay safe tonight.”
The room seemed to sway for a moment. Why would he write this? What could he know? Was this a genuine warning or some cryptic ploy?
Though I wanted to dismiss it, a quiet voice within urged me to pay attention. Instead of heading home, I drove to my sister’s apartment on the other side of town. We stayed up late, talking, the weight of the note lingering in my pocket.
The next morning, my landlord called. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice heavy. “There was a gas leak in your building last night. Everyone had to be evacuated. You’re fortunate you weren’t there.”
Fortunate. The word echoed in my mind.
I’ll never fully understand how my ex knew or why he chose to warn me after all that had passed between us. That small slip of paper shifted something in me. It showed me that meaning can come from the most unlikely sources, even from those we’ve left behind. More than that, it left me with a lesson I hold close: trust your instincts, no matter how unexpected their messenger.
