I waited. The car drove into the parking lot. It was nothing new.
I waited outside. The car drove into the nearly empty parking lot. It was nothing new.
I waited outside; it was dusk. The car drove into the nearly abandoned parking lot. It was nothing new.
Time froze as I stood stranded outside after rehearsal; it was dusk. The car roared into the silent prison. It was nothing new.
A person in dark faded jeans with a black-and-white mesh t-shirt under a dark blue sweater stood in the polaroid leaking grey. The flip-book animation played and a car roared into the prison of lost souls with ash filtered lights. The prison could no longer hold. It had to let go. But it did not fret, for the lost souls had always returned.