9.

I keep my head down as I scurry off the bus. I've barely placed both feet down on the sidewalk when I feel the gush of wind upon my back as the doors close quickly and the bus roars off into the night. Obviously the second I got off, both the bus driver and the woman had to have let our some gargantuan sigh of relief. This massive puff of tension released the moment I was gone. As if to signal, it's gonna be smoooooooth sailing from this point on. A peaceful joy ride. I stagger down half a block before I feel my stomach morph into some tsunami-esque tidal wave. Poseidon rides the surf. This is it, the big one. No fighting it. I drop my garbage bag and duffel and run to the nearest trashcan. I resist the urge to fight it and I let it come out of me. This violent pouring of all the frustration and fear I felt the past few hours. I've barely eaten anything but booze for the past 30 hours but it keeps coming and coming. This endless heaving. And as embarrassing as it would be to be seen, I feel relieved. I'm finally back in my city. I need to find a place to stay and figure out what to do next but its three fifteen in the morning and I got nothing but time to kill.