She emerged from the storm like a mink with attitude, all wrapped in doused-down furs. Parading before a shop window for others to see, not she herself, she failed in her objective of being noticed. A city deserted, washed away by winter storms, it had no time for the vain, only the odd foolhardy soul out prowling the pavements. With a flagrant disregard for whoever she might splatter, she shook herself free of her collected reservoir, fluffed up her black collar, and straightened her wide-brimmed bonnet. The scene unravelled.
Dusk in the city was a terrible time, where smog and night collided. The downpour might have plastered the coal dust to the city’s twisted architecture, yet, still, it reigned in almost perpetual midnight. The observer hated it, but his work demanded he remained the
