Morton Street

Home.

The simple pleasure of arrival, so quickly washed away by the knowledge of what's to come. I try to rejoice, but the clouds of anxiety and sorrow and guilt all travel through me at every step, every smile. I've known this feeling before, but avoided it at all costs. You hurt the ones you love. I can't look you in the eyes, just now.

Orphan puppy was confused by my return. It took her a few hours of walking around the apartment and staring sadly in my general direction, before she finally got into my room and started burrowing in random pieces of clothing. The vet had said that she is thriving. My heart breaks a million times that I cannot keep the perfect world intact.

Homecoming is lovely, calm. The magnolia trees outside my window are a sea of pink petals; the gingko leaves are just beginning to sprout. New York is a drizzle, but I still want to see it, to breathe it, to reunite. I let myself fall asleep early, so when I wake, the world is still mine alone. I brace myself for the fall. The times, they are a-changing.