neon lights

The glow of the neon lights is obscured by the orange tint that the haze of smoke layers over the city. Most people have their blinds drawn, the promise of an early sunrise causing them to block any gap to the outside world. A young woman walks down the street, as an older woman watches. The older woman lives above her shop, and only happened to glance out her window as she sipped her morning cup of tea. Bright purple lettering in the shop’s windows advertises card readings and fortune tellings, and as she looks out kitchen’s window she can see the other woman slow down to inspect the text. Usually, it glows in the early morning light, a faint, nearly imperceptible purple aura surrounding the shop, making it stand out from all the garish neons in every direction. This morning, however, the light blends horribly with the already tinted air, making the area around the shop appear nearly gray. She has no idea why the young woman might’ve stopped, the shop is clearly closed, and the nearly nocturnal city seems almost dead in the early morning light. She only stands there for a minute—scarf pulled up to nearly cover her face, coat carefully buttoned down, looking far too warmly dressed for the dry summer air—before she continues walking.

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