I am not a paranoid person by nature. I don’t think everyone is out to get me. I don’t cross the road when I see a gaggle of young men in hoodies and baggy jeans walking towards me. And I don’t stroll with my keys laced between my fingers as I walk through a parking lot.
I am an aware, smart, keen observer of life, or so I believed.
After a fun night of singing and dancing away to Sister Sledge at the Soho House and still humming We Are Family, I arrive back at my flat around midnight to discover I had been burgled. A sick, thick feeling rose from the pit of my stomach that buckled my knees and sucked the oxygen from my lungs. My clothes were scattered across the room, jewellery boxes emptied and lying broken, and drawers were open and overturned.