Hello

I know it before I've opened my eyes. There's a difference in the way the light hits my bedroom curtains. I see it before I've even stepped out on the stoop -- something in the light gait of people in the street below. Spring has hit the city like a tidal wave, dancing into every nook and reviving even the dustiest of corners. On the fourth floor of the bookstore, someone has opened a window, like the tiniest rebellion. I sit in the park for a minute before resigning myself to the workday ahead. A man walks by with five dogs in a jumble. Everything's different. 

We're okay.