Midnight

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The dress that had hung so limply on the svelte mannequin is now the only separation between my skin and the creeping midnight chill. In the heady heat of noon it was as tempting as ice water, now all I want is a jacket to throw over the top. Up ahead is our rendez-vous, the cafe where we first met. I can already see the front, the street tables that were so busy in the day all stand empty, lonely without their chairs. I've never seen the orange paint look so grey, so blackish. The only splash of the friendly tangerine is in a spreading spot from the glow of a streetlamp. The hunger I had felt on the bus has been replaced by a rising feeling of unwellness in my stomach and below the clack of my heels my heart beat pounds it's own quickening rhythm. I had expected the streets to be almost empty, and whilst I don't need to weave through the crowds of earlier, there are a few folks about. I guess that's life in the city for you, the finest place to be alone in the crowds.

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