My city, my city

Biking home from hours of play, bathed in artificial light.

The sky was soft orange and the mountain with its radio towers stood immovable to my left. Cars whizzed by, illuminating the staccato Wells Fargo on the corner.

My hands were freezing; they were exposed to the biting winds on the handlebars. I did not move them even though it would've made them warmer. I'd take the slight pain.

Everything was so familiar but also so varied in the passage of time so I knew I would not be seeing this sky again.

I trusted the sky of the future to also be beautiful. It has not disappointed me yet.