There’s a way solos move through their own homes that no one talks about — tiptoeing. Eating standing up at the counter because “it’s just me.” Watching TV with the volume too low. Keeping the good plates in the cupboard. Telling a story to ourselves, then dimming it because there’s no one around to tell it to.

We learned to be quiet for other people — partners who needed less noise, families who took up the air, roommates we worked around. And then we kept doing it. Even when the house emptied out. Even when the only person left to make room for was ourselves.

This Wednesday, just notice.

Where are you still tiptoeing? In which chair, which room, which sentence? And then — slowly, without ceremony — stop. Sit in the full chair. Use the good plates on a Tuesday. Hum out loud in your own kitchen. Take up the room you pay rent for.

There’s no one here to make small for. 🤍