We broke through the cloud line, the ground suddenly beneath us again. The shapes of the city and landscape, the green and brown and blue, the rust and steel, were  familiar. I traced lines in the window.

I hobbled off the plane, having destroyed my ankle hiking only a few days before. Out of security, waiting for me, was D. He’d acquired a beard and a hat. I touched the hair on his face. He picked up my bag and we walked to the car.