tales from an ordinary world

2002-04-02

the end of daylight.

It's dark when I leave work, and it's only a quarter to seven. Stabbing car headlights make me look away from the road, so I look up at the building next door, office lights still on. Pasted to a 3rd floor window are cut out letters saying :

Happy
 th

but it's backwards from out here, of course. Perhaps they just leave it there, waiting for the next birthday, whereupon they attach the appropriate numbers.

Musical cars doof past. More headlights. My tram's got one stuck on high beam. It sputters and lurches at each intersection as it takes me home. No Melbourne Express for me, even though it's sitting right there on the seat, beside my bag - I won't succumb.

Early darkness makes me think of winter, of being out in the crisp evening air somewhere else in the world. Hot drinks and a scarf, something I never find myself wearing here.

Grey suit, dark hair, Davidoff Lights poking out the top of a tiny bag, she gets off in front of me. It's been darkness and light the whole way home.

Quarter past seven I'm walking home, just me and the sodium lamplight. The neighbourhood cats watch me closely, but won't come near.