Safe House

One of the things that always confused me about the old world was what they said about the night sky in their big cities.

Apparently, light pollution blotted out the stars themselves so that people down on the ground wouldn't get a good look at what the universe above them actually looked like.

With the sky as clear as it was, and with there being barely any artificial light present in the community, we had a full view of the stars above, twinkling majestically, as we approached the banks of the Thames.

Unfortunately, none of us were very much in the mood to appreciate the show that the universe was putting on display for us.

In comparison to how we had been at the Camden Market, it was as if we were a group of entirely different people. Gone was the jovial nature of our conversation, gone were the moments of intimate secret telling. Instead, there was only one thing on our collective minds: Something had happened with Becca.