The sky was darkening and the windows were lighting.
She wore clean clothes and she had a key tied to her white shoelace,
yet she wandered the poorly lit streets
while families ate roasted chicken and peas and drank milk.

She wasn't hungry, wasn't thirsty, wasn't tired.
In spite of these facts, she wasn't content, either.
She still had a reason to roam the streets,
a reason to like the dark sky more than the lighted windows.

She wasn't alone, of course.
There were others, probably, wandering the streets,
but she didn't want to find them.
At this hour, the streets were meant to be meandered in solitude.