She waited for nightfall—for that moment when the day disappeared into silhouettes, leaving behind a footprint of chaos in the streets. Everyone had somewhere to be, but nobody knew where to go.
Night had a vagueness to it. Streetlights out of sync. Bars spilling out the post-Happy Hour crowd. Soon, the shadows would have shadows, and the city’s orchestral din would fade to a distant decrescendo.
Her heels echoed against the pavement. She slowed her steps to match the beat of a paint bucket drum.
She loved to linger in these hours—between dusk and sleep—when the world blurred, and she could still remember her dreams.