It’s almost midnight, and here I wait. Musing over the irony of life. Above me, the half-crescent moon barely smiles down, grazing the surface of the black puddles of water with light. A patter hits the back of my cold hand, rolls, and falls to join the murkiness beneath. I clutch the metal bars a little tighter, pulling my knees into my chest and grimacing slightly as the greying tape around my forearms brushes against my sore thighs. Bruised, red and dry. I take another breath, feeling the air rush through my chest; and exhale, relishing the moment. I’m alive.