We sit at a table in the window, no heater and Friday night in New York like the entire year that passed never happened. I biked straight through a film shoot and no one batted an eye. Today I rode the subway, a reflex along my spine remembering what the right number of stops feels like, the currents of people and sways of tunnels. Maybe some things return.
You sit in stillness for just a moment, knowing everything that is about to come will come. Storms do not dissipate on your doorstep, they blow right through. You were always hesitant to step across thresholds.
But you always did,
when you were ready.
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