The streetlamps put light to the shiny pavement. The rain that lashed the windows all night slides underneath the tires of early morning drivers. It looks like night, but this is later than I would wake if I had to work today. In July, the sun would be encouraging me up at this hour. Now what would be morning is night and it keeps me awake. I could pack the car and leave the trip up to Massachusetts I’ll make today, but I know my eyes would be drooping before I hit Jersey. So, this first thing is also my last thing. As they often are.