Day 10. Last day. Ten days ago I walked into arrivals on four hours of rest — a friend in a hippo mask, his partner beside him with tulips. Today I closed the door behind me at the kitchen with a disco ball and sunflowers. Hugged them both. Took an Uber back through the same airport — no mask this time, no tulips, no one waiting. Plane left twenty minutes early. Ten days became something. The mask comes off, the friend stays.