A Nocturnal Nocturne

Having roamed the thoroughfares until twilight, the nocturnal chill warranted a pause in an empty square garden. I settled upon the slatted cast-iron bench beneath the warm amber glow of a Victorian streetlamp. The city's bustling noise had subsided, leaving an ideal acoustic space. Propping my acquired loupe safely against an iron armrest, I tucked my miniature violin beneath my chin. Drawing the bow smoothly across the G-string, a rich, melancholic vibration resonated through the night air. A curious tabby cat paused on the gravel path ten paces off, transfixed by the cadence. Perfection, as anticipated.