It’s a thoughtful night.
    Many people are out and out late.
    It’s a clear night and Jack and I always assumed they were looking for that clarity in their own minds. That why we called it a thoughtful night.
    A good night for thinking.
    Not for us, though. Too many minds at work. It would cloud our thoughts. But we enjoy the clarity of the moon every night.
    On thoughtful nights we share it.
    Because everyone once and awhile we all need to walk at midnight.
    So we lease out our night to these temporary walkers.
    Tonight is different though. Tonight I am walking alone again and I don’t feel that altruistic. This is my midnight and I don’t want strangers encroaching. Tonight they aren’t fellow wanders, tonight they are shallow vermin and I want nothing more than to stomp them off my path, of my real estate camp, off my park.
    Only one thought grants me hope: the forecast says a thunderstorm tomorrow night.

The End

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