I’ve always felt there’s no place as interesting as the one you’re about to leave. And with our departure planned for the middle of next week, suddenly Chicago seems almost perfect.
All the neighbors say hi—even the ones we’ve never met before. Our apartment feels extra charming—after three years worth of doing and undoing amateur attempts at craftsmanship and remodeling. Right now, the sky is purple in color and the trees along Granville Avenue offer a sense of serenity—at least until a Flash Cab comes barreling down the street, blowing through every stop sign.
It’s time to go, but there’s a part of me that hates to leave.