And so I was here on the faded and chipped green paint of the bench outside the Chinese restaurant. No one was around. The sounds of cars in the seemingly distant heart of the city were dulled beneath the humming of the sign above my head. It flickered and flashed, O-P-E-N OPEN OPEN over and over again, the red and blue glow casting strange shadows on the concrete of the sidewalk. A moth slapped against the fluorescent lighting in the awning in rhythm with the sign flashing; O, slap, P, slap, E, slap, N, slap. A breeze blew through bringing the scent of old oil, spices, and car exhaust. I breathed deep and rose, walking off into the cool night as the cars and voices surrounding me returned to my perception.