I Went To Cancel An Old Bank Card After A Funeral—The Teller Asked Me Not To Leave

my collar, hands jammed in the pockets of my Army surplus coat, boots hitting the frozen sidewalk with the kind of rhythm that comes from marching drills and muscle memory.

The city moved around me—taxis honking, steam rising from grates, people hunched and hurrying like extras in a movie about urban survival. I’d been back in Chicago for three days.continue reading …