It was a damp, foggy evening. The street was so empty, so dark without the moon to illuminate the way. Beside me, shading the road, buildings reached for the sky, trying ever so hard to touch the stars. The sidewalk below them was so full of life, so bright and happy as hidden figures danced and sang and drank, nested cozily in their chiffon abodes. Across from the partygoers, the cafe was empty and lit with a gentle glow. So welcoming was that glow, beckoning me to rest and come in for a short cup of coffee. All the light in the world, and yet I stayed on this dismal road. I clutched my umbrella tighter, staring straight ahead. The huge spire in the distance marked my path; it was a straight shot forward. And so I walked, letting the night grow darker; watching from the corner of my eye as the artificial lights so far away get happier; and passing by the ever-fading presence of the cafe so down on its luck.
I walked, letting myself become one with the road under the moonless sky.