Soma Holiday

I flew out of the city one hundred miles away. It was far but not enough: still I could feel familiar faces passing by on the street and my ties leading up to kites watching from above.

A little bit of patience would have maybe waited the lingering cobwebs from the old dusty house out, but my patience was weak while the burdens were strong. One-Hundred thousand miles more I soared through intent on putting that unwanted prologue behind me, but even before the underside of my foot touched ground I knew this wasn’t enough. I could still hear them; louder than I knew them to be before I had even left. Even in my hands I couldn’t shelter my head completely.

Once more, without much wasted time, I abscond another hundred thousand. That was it: no more money to spend or leaps to risk. I was dropped off and gave faith to the wherever I had gone. It worked, and though the remains of everything stayed tucked away at the corner of the desktop I could at last be nowhere. Free and lost, unaware and far away, but fully in time like a spoon dragging through honey; the thickness of it rounding in to every curve and edge perfectly.

Home is calling now whether I’m ready to return to it or better off away. The heat of the sun on the haze of the air is the first and last thing to make it clear that I am home. It’s all that’s really needed as after that the details write themselves in familiar beats of even more familiar characters, and they un-pause in a long -held exhale of a caught breath.

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