The colors of the city, particularly in the waning light, were soap gray, and the cobblestones matched these hues, darkening though in places where the doorways were set back and in shadow.
Lights were just starting to come on, yellow bulbs from restaurants, clearer white ones on streetlamps. It was that time of the evening when it feels like surrender...the afternoon just slowly evaporates and in its ashes come the familiar darkening parts of the day. Not yet night. Not still day. In between. Each day, more or less at the same time, it returns to this familiar. It is unstopping. It just does.
He felt this way when she was absent...an almost undeniable shape, an almost impossible way to stop it. His mind, so bright and shining during the day, walked through his thoughts and started turning off light bulbs by hand...feeling the heat from them as he burned himself out.
It might be summer soon, or winter...he couldn't tell...if she was near he was warm.
The streets were dark and didn't seem to have much distance to them. He felt like he could see the end of the road. Could almost just make it out.
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