The street lamps paint the night an eerie orange. The stars, spattered across the moonless night, struggle against the urban sky.
The bus is empty. there’s something serene about traveling cross town on the last bus of the night. The imaginary veil feels thin against my skin. I can picture the scene in a movie. The filters they’d use and angles the camera take. It plays out in my head. Filling the otherwise empty night.
I already regret leaving. But I can’t play pretend and hide away from life everyday. Sometimes I have to visit it and feed it. Make sure it continues.
I cross the street. No headlights in sight. I don’t think they’ll mind if I jay walk right now. Sounds are crisper and carry better. Even my own foot steps tap-tap on the pavement. I’m not in a hurry. But then nothing at this time of night ever is.