Concrete Silence

The neon bleeds into the wet asphalt, a bruised violet against the sudden dark. Footsteps echo, hollow and rhythmic, down the canyon of glass and steel.

A distant siren tears the fabric of the quiet, its wail stretching thin across the rooftops, before sinking into the hum of the cooling exhaust, the steady breath of the sleeping machine.

Shadows lengthen, stretching thin fingers across the empty intersections, where traffic lights blink their steady cadence, amber warnings to ghosts and memories.