At night, it’s like a ghost town.  Sort of.

Thousands of people live nearby – it’s too many houses in too little space, so that no matter how far you go it never feels like you’ve gone anywhere.  But walking after midnight, no one is ever around.  Cars pass, roaring dully down low-limit sideroads, but you can’t see the drivers for the headlights, the darkness.  If I didn’t know there were people in those houses, that cars needed drivers, there’d be no proof of anyone.

Sometimes, in the park, there is distant laughter, but never anyone around to laugh it.


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