Window on the left

I buy the seat at 6:14 in the morning. Window on the left side. I do not know why that one matters but it does.

Then I lie in bed and stare at my phone.

I text Werner. Just the facts. Pick me up. Monday morning. He writes back one word: yes.

I do not text my dad. My thumb goes to his name. I just stop.

Then the Morocco money comes back. Half of it. I send it to Teresa for the room. I write her a note. I write: thank you for not asking why.

I read it back. It sounds like begging.

Maybe it is.

I keep saying this is just work. New city. New light. But my bag is half packed and I have not taken a real photo in three days.

Something is coming. I am not ready to look right at it.