Night falls softly upon the land, warm and comforting like a childhood blanket, wrapping around her with an array of celestial freckles. The shade of the sky is a warm, summery midnight. The streets are empty and void, but her mind is not such things, filled to the brim with spiraling galaxies, bright and kind, complex and welcoming. Her instinctual fear is quelled by the comfort of everything she knows as she takes another quick step into a brilliant midnight.Â
The sky’s one large eye watches over her brightly, a gentle cyclops, making sure she gets back safely. Lights wink at her as if they know all of her best-kept secrets, from breaking vases to breaking hearts, making silent promises to keep them for her.
It is between her and the city.
Neon signs blaze like a flame in an unlit place, lighting her way back home, although, she feels, this is her home.
The veins along the city are as familiar to her as the roads on the backs of her hands. Darkness is not something she fears. A woman walking alone in the unknowingness of life is dangerous, they’ve told her, but she will hear no such things. People do not love her like her home does. To her, this place is beauty, not tragedy.
