You lay your head down to rest, pull up your blankets, and close your eyes. And the world might as well stop existing.

But obnoxious signage continues to glow brightly, still herding you towards stores that shut off their lights and locked their doors at 8pm. The traffic lights marshal streets long empty of cars, taking turns to see whose green shines brightest, whose red looks the most menacing and stop-worthy. The white and yellow striped tattoos on the roads themselves dull and become indistinguishable.

All the usual rules dissolve. Nobody is around to run you over for jaywalking, to silently discourage you from loitering outside their shop by hoping their glare might subconsciously make you leave. You could walk anywhere, if it isn't fenced off. It's just you and the night, left to fend off the cold air until morning.

You lay your head down to rest, pull up your blanket, and close your eyes. But the world refuses to stop existing, biting at your cheeks, fingers, toes until they go numb and disappear.

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