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Description
       The edges of my vision were blurred to a point that I could only make out what was directly in front of me. A drone lingered around the place, that of people talking. No words could be made out from their perpetual chatter, and even as I look at their shadowed faces, I see no movement of their lips. Car horns occasionally sound, the stereotypical trumpet section of the concert band that is this urban madness, though not a car was to be seen. Neon lights glow to my left and right, where my vision distorted them to auras of bright oranges and reds.
       I did not bother to look any higher than over the heads of the hundreds of people bustling past each other, some holding bags, others with a palm to their ear, a cellphone open, but not a sound from their lips. The sky, or perhaps its a ceiling, is darker than a nighttime sky, as it lacks the winks of stars and the ever present gaze of the moon. Buildings seem only to rise as high as my vision reveals, I could not tell if they were made from brick, glass, or simply cold, hard metal. Gray, everything was gray.
       You emerged from the crowd. I wasn't caught by surprise, I expected you here. I placed my hand on your back, and felt the few strands of hair that made it that far. All the people moved away, to the left, where everything was now clear, to the left, where you stood by me. I leaned in to tell you something, it was lost in the drone of voices, and a fanfare of car horns.
        And as fast as you came, you were gone. You spun out from my one-armed embrace and flew into the sea of gray people. The buzz of the neon lights seemed to get louder as I simply just stood conflicted. You were here, and you were gone.
        And now I stand alone, the gray people encircling me, a man in the middle of the street.
        The blurs upon the edges of my vision would soon flood my eyes.

Description
       The edges of my vision were blurred to a point that I could only make out what was directly in front of me. A drone lingered around the place, that of people talking. No words could be made out from their perpetual chatter, and even as I look at their shadowed faces, I see no movement of their lips. Car horns occasionally sound, the stereotypical trumpet section of the concert band that is this urban madness, though not a car was to be seen. Neon lights glow to my left and right, where my vision distorted them to auras of bright oranges and reds.
       I did not bother to look any higher than over the heads of the hundreds of people bustling past each other, some holding bags, others with a palm to their ear, a cellphone open, but not a sound from their lips. The sky, or perhaps its a ceiling, is darker than a nighttime sky, as it lacks the winks of stars and the ever present gaze of the moon. Buildings seem only to rise as high as my vision reveals, I could not tell if they were made from brick, glass, or simply cold, hard metal. Gray, everything was gray.
       You emerged from the crowd. I wasn't caught by surprise, I expected you here. I placed my hand on your back, and felt the few strands of hair that made it that far. All the people moved away, to the left, where everything was now clear, to the left, where you stood by me. I leaned in to tell you something, it was lost in the drone of voices, and a fanfare of car horns.
        And as fast as you came, you were gone. You spun out from my one-armed embrace and flew into the sea of gray people. The buzz of the neon lights seemed to get louder as I simply just stood conflicted. You were here, and you were gone.
        And now I stand alone, the gray people encircling me, a man in the middle of the street.
        The blurs upon the edges of my vision would soon flood my eyes.