night of living silence

It's 1:40 at night. I'm waiting for my clothes to dry at the coin laundry. I sit on the hard sidewalk, back pushed against a vacant building, reading a really good book about Australian place names. My shoes are off, my barefeet pushed against the asphalt. A thin misty rain starts, cutting through the still humid night. I ignore it and keep reading, part of me aware of the feeling against my skin and the occasional taxi drifting past in the darkness beyond my peripheral vision. It's moments like these that my mind kind of twirls, reflecting on a kind of 3D depth to my life's current state connected to what it is and what it will be. These deep thoughts distract me briefly from the book, and I see the mist has left a thin glistening sheen on the pages. I check my chipped orange cellphone, another 10 minutes. I keep reading.