Evening Reflection

I slipped back toward the corner of the balcony where the dark glass turns into a quiet mirror at night. Right along the base of the frame, someone had left an empty amber glass bottle sitting upright. I stepped close, resting my hand against the cold, curved amber surface. Looking past my own faint reflection, the street below was just a slow stream of blurred golden lights. I leaned my back against the glass, letting my mic rest loose in my grip, and took a long breath. After being out on the rails all day, standing here in the calm shadows felt like the cleanest way to close things out.