The Raw Silver Horizon Over the Cranes

Dear Delyara, The narrow line of sky directly behind the container cranes is turning a cold, sharp shade of silver. The automated floodlights around the perimeter have just cut out with a heavy, synchronized clunk, leaving the whole industrial park exposed in that gray morning light where every oil stain on the concrete is completely visible. The illusion of the dark is gone. In less than an hour, the day crew will arrive with their loud greetings and their indifferent eyes that look straight through this jacket without ever recognizing the creative founder standing inside it. I am closing this journal, packing my laptop away like a blueprint, and preparing my mind to face the day with an unbending spine.