Who: Notus What: A quick trip to the store turns into a meaningful moment When: Tuesday morning Where: Lower East Side
”The winds are changing.”
Notus paused for a second, one corner of his mouth quirked upward in an almost-smirk. “What did you say?”
“The winds, love. They’re shifting.” The little old lady behind the counter gave him a quizzical look as she handed him his change. “It’s the end of August, you know.” Fifty-three cents passed from her hand to his. “Before long, it’ll be the end of summer.” She thrust a paper bag containing his purchases (two rolls of film, one bottle of vodka, two Snickers bars, and one can of Monster) across the counter with a sigh that clearly said kids these days don’t know anything.
The almost-smirk had turned into an almost-grin, which almost lit up his almost sunburnt face. He fumbled around for a second, nearly dropping his change as he maneuvered it into his pocket. “Yes ma’am,” he said, finally reaching for the paper bag. “I guess you’re right.”
The old lady blinked, her expression something between well, duh and you’re wasting my time. Taking that as his cue to leave, Notus clutched the bag to his chest and exited the store, mumbling, “Thanks,” somewhere between the counter and the sidewalk.
Once on the street, he paused again. Tilted his head back. Breathed. The winds were changing, so to speak. Summer had come, had almost gone, and now… this was his time. Late summer, early autumn – although the weather here wasn’t the same as it was back home, it still had a bit of the same feel, the same emotion. It was still enough.
He had been so caught up in work, in projects, in dozens of mindless little hobbies that helped to alleviate his rampant curiosity, that he had almost missed out on his very own time of the year. A shame, really… that he was so removed from his past that he had nearly forgotten the very essence of his existence.
Shrugging off that thought, Notus turned and started walking, memories of home and his family still swimming through his head. He wondered if anyone else could feel the shift in the weather. He wondered if anyone else was thinking about him.
He remembered home. Horses. Flying. He remembered his father’s eyes, his mother’s laugh. The way he was always trying to be as good as his brothers. The way it felt to stretch out his wings. He remembered having the power to destroy entire cities, cause famines. He remembered the way it felt to be feared… sometimes even hated.
The past was in the past. It had been a good past, but still…. he was happy with who he presently was. He wasn’t very powerful, and his name wasn’t known by all – but he felt more at ease and like himself than he ever had before. Anonymity suited him quite well.
The winds are changing. The little old lady had said something profoundly true.
The almost-grin stayed on his face for the rest of the day.