Second Chances
By William Holden
I sat at what had become my spot, a small wooden bench on Kite Hill overlooking the city. In the distance, the pride flag stood tall and proud at the corner of Market and Castro. I watched with deepening sadness as the flag twisted and turned in the bay breeze. The cooling temperatures of the day meant only one thing to the residents here, the end of summer. For me, it meant the end of my extended stay; the end of what had become one of the happiest times of my life.
I never meant for any of it to happen. After all, I had someone waiting for me back home. But something happened to me the day I stepped off the plane three months ago. I don’t know if it was, perhaps it was the ocean air or the electrifying energy of the city. More than likely it was my own
