The rat raced me to the end of the street.

Young people filled every restaurant crevice.

Carefree laughs filled the September evening

Where am I?

I lived in DC at 18, left, and came back at 27.

Now, I don’t look like these people.

There’s a pudge in my belly

There’s bags under my eyes

My thighs grew.

My patience shrunk.

Thoughts of my 9-5 plague my Sunday night mind.

The DC I knew at 18 was a jungle

Filled with liquor stores, locals, and loud go-go.

But now, DC looks like urgency and networking events.

I left my youth at my office desk.

As adulting strikes, all I can think of is the near future.

When will we buy our home?

When will my pudge turn into the nest of our babies?

Work, gym, cook, scroll, text, talk, read, sleep.

adulthood is the only hood I don’t recognize in DC.