Brisk Autumn Night

Stepping out onto the not-so-bustling street, I feel a cold nip in the air radiate a shiver down my spine. There is an emptiness to the evening. It is an emptiness one experiences on a brisk autumn evening. The ambiance is muffled and static. Hardly a whisper could be heard save for the tapping of my pointed toes on cracked concrete. The melodic stepping creates a rhythm I subconsciously nod along to. As I walk, the sun begins to set. The darkening sky swallows the quiet church whole and I cannot help but feel and eerie presence loom over the avenue. I quicken my pace and turn the corner. What once was calm has now been lost. Store lights' neon haze blur across the bustling pavement, getting caught in passerby's bundled up with places to go. Anxiety rises as I quicken my steps to keep up with the crowd. "Yes, I too have somewhere important to be", The soles of my feet lie. Wool upon wool upon honking taxis and barking pups. I wish to say I feel less alone but alas, a statement cannot be true walking by oneself on this brisk autumn night. I peer into unfamiliar shops. Some full, some not. All lonely, all empty. How can one sit, accompanied by friends, but look so alone? It's the silence. Muffled silence on these brisk autumn nights.