The flight was subdued—a cabin of masked passengers and the hollow hum of engines.
By evening, I was processed through the silence of the arrival hall and sent to a hotel room for fourteen days of quarantine.
Fourteen days to finally stop moving. A forced pause where I had to untangle the past and sit with a future that didn’t exist yet. Each day became a meditation on the choices we’d made and the sacrifices we were still carrying.
The holiday in Krabi felt like a lifetime ago.
Everything else was still.
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