Miami air hits me and I actually breathe.
Not the tight, careful kind I’ve been doing. A real one. Deep. Messy. Like my body forgot it could do that.
It’s warm. Loud. Familiar.
I stand there for a second longer than necessary, people brushing past me, dragging suitcases, calling Ubers, living their lives like nothing ever breaks.
I want that.
I think I have it.
I’m not sure.
—
The first day back doesn’t feel like a day.
It feels like being thrown into something already moving.
My phone won’t stop. Emails. Staff updates. A supplier complaining. Someone asking about a collaboration like I’ve been gone for years instead of days.
Mara shows up before I even finish unpacking.
She doesn’t knock. She never does.
She walks in, drops her bag, and just stares at me.
“What?” I ask, pull
