Another game, another day of city drawn in upon itself; little outward signs of life in hours of time when such was on a screen.
From vitality of night before, parks and walks and city’s streets became again their own, eerie of way when strong collective thought brought outward life to close, drawn in to single event and energy of which they lived outside and beyond—still living in the world.
Only the oaks retained their leaves; the last of scarlet but mostly brown of pin oaks that held onto the last when new of spring broke hold from branch and boughs.
Cold arrived. Freeze lasted long into the day, and they dressed in coats and covering hats, she in scarf as well, chartreuse in highlight hue.
They thought of woods and escape to place as open as empty as city then but without the unnerve of groupthink-abandon, a place of quiet and solace of world and not life’s die and hiding from.
“I’d rather be there, right now,” he shared.
“So would I,” she answered.
Together, they walked on through vacant and empty streets. Together, they continued: together in time, together in place, together in distant-dream; two living amongst city of ghosts.