We all need to start writing more, goddammit. There is no excuse for slacking off here! just kidding.
It was 12:40 AM, quite possibly the literal middle of the night, and Dwight Prodam was cruising slowly down the empty streets of his hometown’s busiest thoroughfare. Busy was a word for the daytime, though. In the middle of the night, it was devoid of movement, and commerce. The blessed lights of shops and buildings remained illuminated all the time. If they weren’t, it would be like driving through India ink. The lights also served to give the street a welcoming feeling, probably as an airline pilot sees the lights of the runway after a trip over the Atlantic.
After a while, Dwight couldn’t take it anymore, and parked his car in a misty parking lot betwixt a martial arts studio and an organic foods grocery store. From here on, he continued his slow travel down the street, sometimes skirting behind buildings, in the temporary dark. At more than one point, he saw a cat dart across the street, or jump onto the roof of a merchant’s store. He decided that the cats must be the nocturnal guardians of this particular town. It was only reasonable. Somebody had to do it, and what other animal could handle the job?
As he walked, he put some headphones around his neck, providing a calm, reassuring background melody to his stroll. He considered the language and surrounding culture of the night. People use phrases such as “dead of night” and “pitch black”. Vampires and werewolves come out at night. These were ideas to emote a permeating aura of fear. But Dwight looked around the street tonight, and he saw nothing dead about it. The darkened buildings, the parked cars, the meager streetlamps; all these worked to promote a feeling not of death, but sleep.
The town wasn’t dead; it was sleeping. The town had undergone a lot today, and the country dealt with its own trials and ordeals. Now was not the time for solving problems, now was only the time to rest. Solutions would come tomorrow.
Dwight thought about his brother, and his job. He knew no solutions would be coming tonight. He only had to reflect on what had happened, and find some sleep himself. The solutions would eventually have their time to present themselves. Tomorrow would be that time.
Now, what I would like is if everybody could tell me what sort of mood they feel this piece carries. Just one word would be nice, but if it has to be more, that's acceptable.