Scare

Your sea legs wear off, get used to the same view outside the window. Rummage through cupboards full of food it seems years since you bought, look at yourself in the mirror and see someone only vaguely familiar. The plants revive, eventually. You look at maps of other worlds and wonder what'll come of them. Look at words of other times and wonder if this is when you step up to bat. Count your pennies in terror, but a note in your pocket reminds you you are doing exactly what you said you would, and how strange it is to be happy. Norooz rolls past you in a giddy feast, the equinox tilts in your favor and, as it does ever year, erases the dark clouds of an entire season in your heart. You set up alerts from a botanical garden's cherry bloom watch and grow impatient for whatever is to come. When this storm finishes pummeling you, when the Fates have grown tired of their games and leave you out to pasture for a bit, when the grass grows green again and the world is yours for the taking, where will you start?

There is a film shoot outside your apartment. The view changes, even as you are looking.