You Are Where You Came From

The hallway is quiet, but your hands are shaking as you unbutton the coat. You know the smell is there — the stale smoke, the cheap beer, the evidence of a stop you didn't mean to make.

You hold your breath, terrified that the person sleeping down the hall will wake up and know. But the light does not sniff the air for your failures.

It sees the one who came home. There is light within a person of light, and it lights up the whole world — even this dark entryway, even this wool soaked in regret.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and you return to it now, exactly as you are. The origin is not the bar.

The origin is the fire that guards you until you blaze. You are not what you tried to hide tonight.

You are where you came from.