A man opens his window to the street. He hears a cry ring out below, hidden in darkness. The silence following is sharp - stretching time. He stays, moments pass. More pass.
His thoughts move to the stars above his head.
They're dim through the city smog, but the sky is clear of clouds and the brightest constellations burn jewel blue. A streetlamp flickers, drawing the man's eyesight back to the street. A shrouded woman hunched low ambles head down, below the tenements. The patches of light bend around her. Her hand holds out a leash binding a small frail dog close to her. The man watches her slow sojourn, till the last shuffle fades imperceptible.
He reaches into his shirt's pocket, standing up from leaning on the sill as he does so. He produces a half full packet of cigarettes. He takes one to his lips, and strikes a match twice before it lights. He cups his free hand around the cigarette end, bringing the burning match up to his face, illuminating the slight lean of his head, engorged shadows emerging. He draws deeply, and exhales a blue cloud into the still night air. His hand holding the cigarette sits bent up at the elbow, resting on the sill. The other arm rests on the sill close into his stomach, bending at the hips as he leans out the window.