The sky was a bruise over the city; smarting purple and a numb gray cloud.
Heaven had tripped and inflicted some blunt force trauma upon the troposphere's eastern pressure front.
The evening was now limping into the late autumn night.
Me, then, walking home after an overnight shift.
Both my knees unblemished but with puffy dark moons below my eyes. The same colour as the moody clouds that spooled over the hills on the western horizon- moving with the lazy pour of over-proofed bread dough.
The sky over the sea was most likely clear and still a pale, dusty blue.
We will have to imagine, as I did not turn round to check. I made my way down to home, through streets that were readying themselves for the night with a quiet bustle.