Streets & Co.
When she was a little girl and the top of her head was already level with the top of her mother's shoulders, she would twist the ring she wore on her left hand and she would pretend invisible animals would walk along with them on their route to school. Sometimes when her imagination was riled up properly, she could swear she saw them. Giraffes, zebras, antellope, elephants. They walked in the street with cars racing through them, unaffected. She didn't need the animals to do anything interesting. She just liked their company.
During her high school years, the street became her home. She memorized every block and knew exactly which ones were more or less steep, as to become the least tired on whichever journey she and her friends embarked upon that day. They would sit on curbs for hours, wait on corners, and mostly they would walk without a destination. They just liked each other's company.
She's older now, post-college, pre-adulthood, and the streets are used for driving. Sometimes even when she's finished with an errand or done with everything for the day, she takes the long route home just to stay on the road. But she's faced with a dilemma.
She can't believe the lengths she'll go to avoid having company.