You rearrange the desk. You find the café with the better light.
The restlessness gets there before you do.
So you go bigger.
New city. New job. New people who won't interrupt.
It arrives unpacked before your bags are.
The noise was never in the room.
You've been carrying it and blaming the venue.
Every place you've ever escaped to has been quietly disqualified within a month.
Not because it failed you.
Because you brought the one thing you were running from.
The good life doesn't need better conditions.
It needs you to stop auditioning locations for it.
So where does it start?
Wherever you are the moment you stop looking for somewhere better.
