Reflect

Rows of windows reflecting car headlights in the dark. They are like blinking eyes, small suns beamed into the night.
    Parked cars are dormant- lining the edges of the square, surrounding empty space, gleaming metal robots on cobblestones. Only the dust and dirt makes them familiar when caught in daylight; here they are as alien as the moon.
    The lights are luminous fish, swimming from glass to glass and vanishing into swathes of black ocean.
    No music.
    Any sound here would break the peace, any noise but the rush and roar of passing engines. Shut your eyes: it is a beach at midnight. Feel the waves and the breeze they bring.
    Moons in the windows are solid and unmoving, one split into many, each fainter and more blurred than the last.
    When the sun rises, the building catches fire.