Page 111 of We Are Just Us

I moved to California thinking I was running away from something. Turns out I was running toward home. I just didn’t know it yet.

There’s a concept in architecture called “threshold space”—the in-between areas. Doorways. Porches. The space where inside meets outside. These spaces are designed to help you transition, to prepare you for what comes next. They’re not meant to be lived in permanently. They’re meant to be passed through.

I think I’ve been living in threshold space for most of my adult life. One foot in, one foot out. Ready to leave at any moment. Never fully committing to being anywhere, with anyone.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about what it might mean to step through. To stop hovering in doorways and be…somewhere. Be with someone. Let myself be known.

It’s also, I’m starting to realize, the whole point.

Honestly? San Diego is a weekly newsletter about building a life in a place you didn’t plan to love. Subscribe if you want more overthinking and occasional emotional breakthroughs.

Next week: I signed up for a cooking class. I don’t expect it to go well.

Kieran read it back five times.

It was more personal than anything he’d written before. More exposed. The Black’s Beach piece had been funny, self-deprecating humor as armor. This was different.

He hit publish before he could talk himself out of it. Then he closed his laptop, leaned back in his chair, and exhaled.

A knock at the door startled him.

Kieran frowned, pushing back from the desk. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

He opened the door to find a UPS driver already heading back to his truck, a package sitting on the porch.

“Thanks,” Kieran called after him, though the guy was already gone.

He picked up the box and looked at the label.

Rory Kline.

Wrong side of the duplex.

Kieran looked at the package. Looked at Rory’s door. Looked back at the package.

This was a perfectly reasonable excuse to knock.

He crossed the driveway.

THIRTY-FOUR

He knocked twice. No answer. Rory’s truck was in the driveway. He frowned and knocked again.

Then there were footsteps and a pause. Then the door opened.

Rory was slightly out of breath, his hair a little messed up, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that looked hastily thrown on.

“Hey,” Rory said, and his voice came out a fraction too casual. “What’s up?”

Kieran held up the box. “UPS left this on my side.”

“Oh.” Rory took it, tucking it under his arm. “Thanks.”

There was a beat of silence.

Kieran tilted his head, studying Rory’s face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. Why?”