Another World

Step off the train at Buchloe and Berlin evaporates. Charlottenburg, the parties, the work, the school—all of it just gone, like I’d never left. I’d known it would be this way. Last time was the same. Everything here feels like another world.

I hadn’t been back since Christmas. The station was empty. Walking down that quiet street toward home, I felt time doing something strange—moving and stopping at once. Days had passed. Nothing had moved.

The weekend happened quickly. Party at André’s. Batman at the cinema. Shopping in Munich with Ana. Pork roast at my grandmother’s—the kind that’s better than anywhere else. I drank it all in, didn’t want to leave, and knew immediately why I’d had to. This town used to be my whole world. It isn’t anymore. Maybe I’ll come back someday. Not yet.

Eleven hours back to Berlin. Magazines, my iPod, Richard Milward’s Apples—enough to keep my mind from breaking. I read my aunt’s card over and over. She was congratulating me on finishing my first year of training, saying everyone was proud, telling me to keep pushing when things got hard. By the time I saw the TV tower again, I felt untethered in a way I hadn’t expected. I grabbed my pack and walked toward the student dorm. I’d be moving soon anyway. Finally.

My phone buzzed. Ana had texted. I smiled.