The old routines are rusty, lie unused in unopened moving boxes at the back of the closet, ask themselves of future purpose. I stress clean the apartment looking for them, scrubbing tiles and arranging piles of paper, while the clock spins itself into a tissy. I have forgotten how to do this. Come morning, there is a bag by the door but I don't know what is inside it. Come morning, there is a ticket with my name on it, there is a flight ready to carry me across the country, you know the weave of this terminal like a dear friend but approach it instead like an old lover where you've forgotten why you loved them.
I have forgotten why I loved you.
The year has been cruel, and long, and lonely. But it has not been a year without joy. Has not been a year without magic. I found a tails-up penny at the security checkpoint and turned it up for someone who might need the luck, but did I not find a heads-up penny in a seat at the gate, left by someone who thought I might the luck myself? The Universe winks at us even when we forget to request it.
The Universe remembers
for you.
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