The city's cold, and dark, but the night is clear. A full moon turns its gaze across the deserted streets, holding court like a benevolent god, ringed by a halo of attendant stars. Looking down on it all, just taking it all in, the life and death, the glory and decay of it all. Looking down on the cars parked in pale pools of light, outlined by the safety glass from broken windows. Looking down on people's heads like a satellite, taking in the dyed brown roots for one and the gleaming dome rimmed in white for the other, while a flash of green changes hands below. Looking down on the rats scurrying through the alleyways between the desperate and the dead, dodging between the needles and and the trash, bales of limp, dark plastic barely stirring in the light breeze. It sees everything.

And maybe, if it looked closely enough, it might even see me.