Arisara
Oddly enough, no guards were outside the restaurant, nor any sign of movement. It was eerily mute. I gazed at the evening sky, the hue of the shell of a passionfruit—a rich purple—and surely enough a full moon cradled in the distance. Stars scintillated, twinkling in a consistent rhythm like they were sending me an untranslatable message. The air was sterile, neither humid nor brisk, as if the atmosphere was in a period of stasis.