The airport is new, gleaming full of potential, hopeful in its extended hand. Drop the rental car in a freezing parking lot, the long, dark drive through the canyon like a cleanse. You hate to leave, reluctant to any change, but the second you park at the gate, the calm settles, spreads through your bags and your fingertips. Soon 6th street will appear around the corner, familiar music in your ear, soon New York will nestle itself into your heart again and you will be powerless against it. A man sits laughing in Haitian French next to me, it's impossible not to feel light at heart. Soon you will be in Queens, there is no better way to return to the buzz.
The sting of departure wanes, the impatient anticipation of arrival building itself in your belly.
We do not know what is next
but for the first time since the plague arrived
you think you might like to find out.
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