The Other Side of the Coin.

Having worked the graveyard shift for the better part of an Olympic year, I know a thing or two about the nighttime. As a matter of fact, it's safe to say that I know somethings you don't know.

I know that the park bench where you sit at in the daytime is someone's bed come midnight; That alleyway you cut across is someone's home. The parks themselves become hiding places for those that don't wish their actions being shown in the light of day and conceal even more secrets at night. Playgrounds become bedrooms for young hands and lips longing to explore nubile bodies or are merely the staging area for drinking, drug use and revelry before actual bedrooms are used.

Hills you would think to be deserted as skateboarders slake their thrill issues on most of them under the cover of darkness and backyards and seemingly empty warehouses become impromptu rings or cages for those seeking blood for their respective fight clubs and with muggers, rapists and killers all using the night as their own personal cloak of invisibility, the Angel of Death is seldom too far away.

How the night obscures these things from view. How the night conceals these things from you. Pray you do not stray to far from the light.