He brought dry clothes from the spare closet.
An oversized sweatshirt.
Soft pajama pants.
Fresh towel.
He left them outside the bathroom.
Then made eggs.
By midnight, the Woman sat at his kitchen table wearing the sweatshirt.
Her hair remained damp.
Without the expensive coat, handbag, boots, and dark glasses, she looked younger.
Not fragile.
Simply tired.
The Single Dad placed scrambled eggs and toast in front of her.
“Fork at three o’clock.”
She smiled.
“Thank you.”
He sat opposite.
She ate slowly.
After several minutes, she said:
“You’re wondering.”
“About?”
“Why I was there.”
He considered lying.
“No.”
She laughed quietly.
“Very convincing.”
“I’m curious.”
“That’s different from needing the answer.”
She stopped eating.
Then said:
“My apartment was gone today.”
“Evicted?”
“Sort of.”
Her landlord claimed he needed the unit for family.
Two weeks’ notice.
The Woman knew enough to suspect the process was improper.
She also knew fighting required energy.
Money.
Paperwork.
Time.
She had run out of all four.
Her employer had closed months earlier after losing funding.
She worked in accessible audio production.
Editing.
Compliance review.
Voice navigation testing.
Digital accessibility.
She had applied to dozens of jobs.
Four interviews.
No offers.
“Because you’re blind?”
the Single Dad asked.
The directness surprised her.
“Sometimes.”
“People said that?”
“No.”
“People rarely say the thing that makes them legally vulnerable.”
“What do they say?”
“That the position has changed.”
“That they found someone with a more flexible skill set.”
“That they’re concerned about the visual demands.”
“Or…”
She paused.
“They spend the entire interview asking how I would find the bathroom.”
The Single Dad stared.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
He shook his head.
“What did you actually do?”
“At the nonprofit?”
“Yes.”
The Woman explained.
Audio-content production.
Editing.
Accessibility standards.
Transcript compliance.
Screen-reader review.
User experience testing.
She spoke differently when describing work.
Sharper.
More confident.
The Single Dad noticed immediately.
“You’re good.”
She stopped.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
“But you sound like I do when somebody asks about hardware inventory.”
She smiled.
“That is possibly the least romantic compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Was I trying to be romantic?”
The Woman angled her face toward him.
“You tell me.”
The Single Dad became aware that the house was quiet.
His Daughter asleep upstairs.
Rain against the kitchen windows.
A beautiful stranger wearing his spare sweatshirt sitting across from him.
He stood.
“You should sleep.”
The Woman laughed.
“Excellent retreat.”
“I’m very skilled.”
He showed her to the guest room.
She stood at the doorway.
“Single Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He waited.
“For the room?”
“For not asking me to be grateful enough.”
The sentence stayed with him after he went upstairs.
He did not sleep easily.
Neither did she.