Nights felt quieter somehow, and that's what drew me to them mostly.
I mean, not for the peace or anything, since peace sounds like actual rest, and rest wasn't something I got much of. It was more that nights didn't demand anything from me. No one expects me to chat or act normal. I could just fade into the background, like the hum of the city that nobody pays attention to anymore.
Daytime was different, all autopilot for me. I'd show up to classes if I remembered the schedule that day. Answer if someone straight up asked me something. Nod when it seemed right. People would say my name, and I'd respond because, well, that's what you're supposed to do. But none of it landed as real. It was like I was trailing behind my own body, off by a beat or two.
At night though, breathing came easier without eyes on me.
I'd usually slip out after midnight, once the building quieted down to that low rumble, pipes clanging a bit, traffic far off, and some TV seeping through the walls from down the hall. Didn't head anywhere special. Just walked those narrow streets by my place, the ones that seem overlooked even by the city itself. Streetlights there flicker like they're worn out from the job.
That tiredness made sense to me, I think. It matched up with how I felt.
There was this convenience store a few blocks over, the kind that's open all night because, apparently, folks need noodles or smokes at odd hours. I was one of them, except no cigarettes for me. Noodles weren't even my thing, really. But the store's lights were harsh and bright, spilling out onto the sidewalk like it was okay to just stand there without saying a word.
The door made that chime when I went in.
The clerk was the usual guy, never really looked at me enough to remember my face, which suited me fine. Grabbed a cold water from the fridge; it bit at my fingers and lined up even with no one else around.
That's when she caught my eye.
She was by the drink coolers, staring at the options like she'd blanked on why she was there. Dark hair hanging loose over her face. Oversized hoodie, sleeves covering her hands, the sort you can disappear into. Didn't seem lost exactly, more like checked out, off in her own head somewhere.
At first, I didn't dwell on it. This place saw all types drifting through after dark: insomniacs, night shift people, or whoever was avoiding going home for whatever reason. I was just passing through myself, another nobody.
But as I paid and headed out, it hit me that I'd seen her type before.
Not a full clear memory, just bits. That hoodie again, the way she stood still by the drinks. Same late hour on other nights. Hadn't said anything to her those times either. Weird that my mind held onto that scrap.
Outside, air hung cool and damp from earlier rain. The street smelled of wet pavement and a hint of metal, maybe from the gutters. I drank some water even though thirst wasn't the issue and leaned on the wall next to the store.
The phone stayed in my pocket. Nothing worth checking anyway.
Time dragged, or maybe snapped by quick; it's hard to tell at night when it stretches out unreliable like that.
The door chimed once more. She came out with a small carton of chocolate milk. Paused seeing me there, just for a second to note it, then stood a bit away. Not too close, not distant. Like she picked the space on purpose.
Our eyes didn't meet.
Cars rolled by now and then, headlights sweeping over before vanishing down the road. A dog barked somewhere close, once, then quit like it changed its mind.
I wondered if she was waiting on somebody or maybe hoping they wouldn't turn up. It seems like that could go either way.
Finished the water, crushed the bottle, and plastic crackled sharply in the stillness. She jumped a little, then eased when she got what it was. She sipped her milk slowly, careful not to spill, I guess.
"I like nights too," she said out of nowhere.
The voice came even, not soft or bold, just straight. Like the words escaped without her meaning them to.
I turned and couldn't hide the surprise. She stared straight ahead at the empty street, not glancing over.
"Why?" slipped out from me before I thought better.
She paused, shoulders shifting up then down a bit.
"They don't ask questions," she said.
That hit somewhere inside, deeper than I expected, in a spot I usually kept closed off.
"Yeah," I got out. "That."
Quiet came back, but it felt okay this time. Shared almost, like we both caught the same low hum others missed.
She looked over quick after a bit, curious but not prying.
"You come here a lot," she noted.
Not judging, just saying.
"So do you," I said back.
A faint smile from her, not the posed kind, barely there really.
"Fair," she replied.
Pause again.
"I'm going this way," she said, nodding down the street. "If you're not."
Hesitated on my end. Not the direction, since I wandered anyway, but this felt new. Even a small offer like that carried weight.
"I don't head anywhere specific," I admitted.
She nodded, like it fit right in.
"Then same here," she said, and started off.
I went after.
Talk stayed light after. Weather comment. How the city shifts look at night. Nothing big. Or maybe everything was in it. Steps fell in sync easily, like we'd done this before, even if it was just minutes.
She slowed under a buzzing streetlight once and stopped.
"Glad you were around tonight," she said softly.
Looked at her properly then, and it struck me as uneasy.
Me too.
For once in ages, that idea scared me a bit.
Caring, even in small ways, seemed like starting something I wasn't sure about handling. It kind of trailed off in my head there, not fully settled.