the shadow-crowded dark

Because the moon is full, it's a thin sort of dark, beyond the protective glow of the sodium lights that line the predawn streets. Thin, but even that thin darkness is crowded with shadows, shadows and more shadows. Each time Marcy's headlights hits one of those streetlight poles, a long, black shadow sprouts from the pole's base, turns like an analogue clock hand round that base as the car nears, and then, oh then. It doesn't fade away, as it would have in Marcy's childhood. No, instead it c...