The hangover crept slowly through my system in the early morning commute, like sludge through the tunnels of the city's underground, how pale the weary travelers, how long the day ahead.
But eight hours later, stepping out of the office into mild air and fiery sunlight on basking brick walls, how defenseless I was against the magic of spring. It creeps into every corner, the scent of cigarette smoke and earth, the delicious feeling of a squint, the sea gull screech you had forgotten to miss.
The crowds thronged onto pedestrian streets, swelled over crosswalks and meandered through impromtu outdoor cafés and bars. The sleeping city wakes, murmurs, begins to shake the heavy weight of winter off its shoulders. In an instant, forgiving citizens agree to forget there was ever such a dark season, remove thick winter coats, peel off thick winter layers surrounding shivering hearts.
Spring. It's Spring.
And for a short, sweet moment,
we are invincible.
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