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Two strangers embrace on a street corner. They do not pat the other back, they really hold on. They hug onto one another, like this moment may be their last. Our character witnesses this and adores the blossoming love. Crickets sing their sweet leg song in the background, while the half moon splatters diagonal slabs of shadow through the concrete sidewalk. Tree leaves form a mosaic in the still night. All sways as it was meant to be.

The half moon is a stage, and sweet summer of late lease forms setting. The tennis shoes grip the methodical steps of urban concrete, waiting on every crack, knowing the colony of ants who live under. Flowers of urban horticulturists flock in the weight of the late night wind and sway among the shadows our character notices. He finds comfort in the natural progress of his footsteps through the abyss of shadows and watches intently for a sign.

A streetlight turns off.

He looks toward the shell of reflective angles that ceased the shadows and listened to the void of technology. He wonders about circumstance. The crickets still sing. This is the fifth time the streetlight has plunked out when our character has walked under it. Coincidence and fate are flip flopping an awful trick on our character and it may well be worth mentioning that he might be dead or dreaming.

On this route, magnificent homes of early twentieth century carpenters stand as majestic wonder of neighborhood and progress. Elms of fantastic years, of thick bark and canopies of leaves, are being torn down. Disease has infected them. History has caught up. Their leaves have fallen off to reveal bleak branches of yesterday. The bare branches resemble witch fingers, bones of nature.

His steps adopt method. Under this half moon it must be easier to watch the shadows than get forgotten under the sky. Bulbous ceramic pots full of Petunias giggle and point when he passes. The inanimate is lost in method of homeward steps. That which sits still can only want his steps, his view.

Homeward bound, with the crickets and shadows, our character views the embrace.

He finds himself alone.

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