The familiar air of Chicago filled Katiri's lungs. Like Vegas, it stunk, but he could feel the humidity tangling the ends of his hair unlike the much drier air of the past couple days. This was home. He turned his eyes toward the sky as he walked. Grey clouds obscured what wasn’t hidden by the buildings stuffed too close together. He wasn’t on the good side of town, but not the worst either. He walked the line between, enjoying the old architecture buried under too many years. It was cheap here and just a little oddly free.

As he unlocked the door to the converted warehouse that held his art studio and home, Katiri felt as separated from Las Vegas as the miles between them. It was dusty. He tossed his bag onto a mattress set on the floor rather than a frame, watching the signs of his absence cloud up into the air. “Home!” he cried out, letting out a twirl as a half-happy smile filled his face. Not quite all joy though. He let himself fall back onto the bed for a minute before he finished the unpacking. Unlike Amanda with her extra stuffed back and the two Malachi brought, Katiri’s trip supplies all fit in a a single duffle bag that he now returned to a bare wood-walled closet. The last thing he put away was the pile of pilfered shampoo bottles from the hotel. After a second of hesitation and a faltering of his smile, he dumped them all into the bathroom not much bigger than his closet. It took only a few steps to fall from the toilet, to the shower, and back out the door, but it was his and he afforded it with his own money.

Finally, he moved to the studio space and threw on all the lights before letting himself get lost. What to work on first? He’d been in the middle of a surreal piece, but he had sketches too, and untainted surfaces waiting for their first taste of paint. He settled for one of those with no plan in mind. Just the afternoon sun and a thirsty canvas.

The hours passed. He hardly noticed it. It was only when his stomach growled that he pulled himself away from the painting. He found a can of pasta in the pantry and a new group message from Amanda and Malachi—pictures from the trip. He let himself finger through them for a second, mostly saving it for later before sending a quick ‘thanks’ text in response. He didn’t feel he got much work done yet so he didn’t want to play. Still, as he looked back through the open square arch that separated his living and working space, he thought the mauve and copper tones looked pretty good on that canvas. Really, there was just one last thing to do before bed.

Katiri shifted his computer’s mouse over to the search engine. Fingers made definite strikes against each key as he typed. ‘How to get a divorce?’ The responses popped up immediately. After browsing through an article with pictures, he opened up the fine with a petition for divorce. He left it waiting for him, the questions so formal about an event that hadn’t been formal at all. Sighing, he left it for the morning and crawled into bed, his computer’s resting light a gentle blue glow. Tomorrow, he’d really get this all figured out.