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i sit on the cold ledge of my hotel room’s window. it is almost a little cabinet embraced by frail curtains. i stare as the city lights blink and dim, each one enlivening the life of a person i’ll never get to know. a path i won’t cross.

there are insignificant lights all across the city’s horizon, yet even the moon looks small from a distance.

all of those flashing lights, as far as they seem, cautiously hold unassociated life stories.

i can’t help but feel intrigued.

there is an apartment building across the buzzing street. a few floors above my eyesight, sits a woman in her late thirties. her white kitchen light sticks out of the gloom. this woman seems to open the door for another man. what could be her husband after a long day of work. with a quick but welcoming embrace, they go lie in separate rooms until the next morning.

down below, out in the street, a middle aged couple makes their way out of a cab. the backseat light dimming as they seal the yellow door. both stretch out their hand to find the other’s. at the same pace, they slowly stride out of my eyesight.

in front of them is a delivery guy tying up his bicycle to a nearby pole. he enters a seemingly familiar restaurant. after a simple pickup, his headlights flicker on his way to his last delivery.

what may seem like simple lights from a distance truly hold tales of families, conflicts, pain, and moments of passion. gradually, those shimmering gleams grow faint and each story meets a pause. i walk over to the entrance of the hotel room and turn off my own lights. i go to sleep.

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