He breathed the air of a new city, the air of a new attitude. It was the beginning of his new life. No more responsibility for others, no more answering for what does not apply to him. From this moment on, he is free to work on his dreams on his own time.

He unlocked the door to his shitty apartment, nestled tightly between a Puerto Rican family and an old pizza shop that smelled like burnt toast and fry oil. The light flickered, and there was a buzzing sound coming from the radiator.

He walked in, crossed the room, a shiver running through his bones. There was a draft coming from a window slightly cracked. The floor creaked under his feet and his suitcase caught on a loose floor board. Leaving it, he went to turn on the beat up lamp in the corner. Click. It doesn’t work. He went to close the window. Stuck. He went to turn off the radiator. The knob turned and turned, but nothing happened.

Giving up, he sat in the old arm chair in the corner. The only thing resembling furniture in the apartment. He took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Then another, until he could finally wrap his head around his future. This is it. This is him on his own. No one to call. No parachute.

He closed his eyes, and thought back to all the times he dreamed of this moment. The day he was finally on his own. He pinched pennies enough to move away from all that his demons. He worked and worked to get a fresh start. Somewhere new. Somewhere he wasn’t being hunted. No more looking over his shoulder, hoping not to be seen.