niostang

GABRIEL I was walking down a street. It was nice enough; like many other streets I'd walked down before. It was quiet, away from the main road and the houses were a decent distance from the street so that each had a generous sized garden. None were too large so as to be a chore and hence the gardens were nice and well tended. Order seemed to be the byword for this locale. The grass was nicely clipped and mown - not a weed in sight. The flowers in their beds had closed for the night, sleeping, safely rooted in the earth, or so I liked to think. Many of the automatic sprinkler systems in the street had been activated. The night was accompa

GABRIEL Standing at a bus stop has always been something of a novelty for me. I'm never there to catch the bus. I go there to observe people. The constant influx of new and familiar faces is a perpetual source of delight. The best time to watch is between four and five pm: about the time when the earth turns to push down the day and release the moody night. People are calm as they occupy themselves while they wait, contemplating the footpath or watching the rhythm of traffic as it stops and starts according to the lights. It isn't quite that end-of-the-working-day rush when emotions borderline on hostile as people eye each other beadily,

GABRIEL I stood on the corner of a large intersection. Tonight, it seemed especially quiet. I had been standing in the same spot for eight minutes. Not a single car had driven by.  I had not taken human form for quite some time - perhaps three human years - but I was sure that cars at intersections, even at a quarter past two in the morning, were standard in suburbia. My mental indifference to this sudden realisation translated itself physically as a shrug. I was surprised by this unexpected mannerism. It had happened almost subconsciously and in my unused human form felt strange, but simultaneously normal. My muscles remembered it, but my