ENID

“Hello, this is your captain speaking. We’ve started our descent…” The rest of the words faded into the background as the captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, a distant, disembodied drone announcing our descent into the O’Hare International Airport.

For me, it felt like I was just about landing straight into hell.

Outside the window, the Chicago skyline was a jagged teeth-line of steel and ice, cutting through a bruised purple dusk. I suddenly felt that familiar, gnawing ache in the center of my chest—the one that always flared up the second I crossed the Illinois border. It wasn't nostalgia, nope. It was more like a warning siren.

I...