Every day I power up.

  Every day, by the time I get home, I’m empty.

  Each night I walk through the door

  and I’m recharged.

  She runs up and hugs me,

  and I get to say two magic words:

  I’m home.

  I live for that moment—

  every day,

  a constant cycle of charging

  and bleeding it away.

  I can’t hit zero.

  If I hit zero, it’s goodbye,

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  and I know it.

  I can’t bring in too much charge either.

  That’s goodbye too.

  They don’t know my constraints,

  but they know my limits.

  I put on a badge.

  Grab a taser.

  Take a hit—

  store it for later.

  She wakes up early,

  always matching my pace.

  She grabs my face,

  squeezes,

  says good luck, Dad—get home safe.

  I do it for her.

  We all have things we must do.

  Sometimes work isn’t pretty.

  I get to be a “security guard.”

  Guard is funny.

  What are we even guarding anymore?

  I can’t do this anymore.

  Society went to shit.

  I got charged up.

  I felt the charge drop.

  She makes it all worth it.

  My shift had complications.

  We had to fight back—

  “defend.”

  They were stronger than I thought.

  They had a lightning rod.

  All at once, there were lights.

  My charge went out.

  It hit zero

  too fast.

  Breathless,

  I wish I could say

  I’m home

  one more time.