The silence after the last bus leaves

It’s 1:15 and the streetlight above my window just flickered once, like it remembered what it was for. The city’s still breathing, but slowly—like someone holding their breath between sentences. I sat on the fire escape with a mug of coffee that’s gone cold, watching the last delivery bike disappear down the alley. There’s something about the way an empty road sounds when no one’s coming or going. Not quiet exactly. More like the pause before a decision.