Tyler stepped off the plane and onto American soil for the first time in nearly a month.
The air smelled different here. There was kess dust and less heat.
Tyler carried only one bag. There was not much inside but just a change of clothes, a few essentials, and his laptop.
The terminal was busy, but he barely registered the crowd. His mind was quiet but focused, turning over everything he had been through since leaving.
All he could see was just a regular line at immigration and as he made a short walk to the exit.
Outside, he flagged down a taxi, gave his address, and leaned back as the city passed by through the window.
Buildings zipped past and he saw children dragging backpacks down sidewalks, couples arguing, a man sitting with his head in his hands near a broken vending machine.
Life here hadn't changed. Not even a little. But he had. Maybe.
...
As the car moved through familiar streets, Tyler's thoughts drifted back to Gumua.
