He shock her hand, not knowing whether to cry or not. His legs were trembling. His heart took turns in-between pumping trying to grasp this very situation. Then everything stopped. The folks around him silenced at the blink of an eye, the once loud and noisy bus-station now felt like as if he'd been in the most jam-packed clothes store in his life, with alive and breathing mannequins, all sent out for something, but he couldn't tell what. Then he blinked, and suddenly everyone was gone. Frightened by this whole situation, he felt unnerved and made his way towards the exit with great haste. Once outside, he stepped away from the grand station in attempt to fill his entire field of view with the building’s majestic grandeur. “What was that all about?” He said to himself with a voice so low.


The city was asleep; the moon had safely tucked its unknowing people in and gave off a bright light this very night. Like a slightly damped bedside lamp. He wandered the rugged streets of asphalt and cobble, and couldn't help to wonder, what a pity it was, that we all missed the light shows that went off every night, at the turn of a new day. Streetlamps and stop signs all cooperated to deliver a beautiful show of wonder and amazement, but sadly, it had no spectators, no critics to argue which light made the greatest gesture. He turned his short-term attention to an old queen song, and muttered to himself as the streetlights tirelessly kept going, “The show must go on…!”