"Love prefers twilight to daylight."

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Somehow, he found it easier to love when he couldn't clearly see. 

He fell in love during the dusk—with people whom he couldn't remember at all that they might as well be faceless and nameless. He fell out of love during the dawn—any traces of amorous trysts washed away under the running water, going down the drain along with any lingering feelings. He had already forgotten whoever it was he shared love with as soon as he walked out of the rented room. Satisfied for the moment, the next fill could always wait until the curtain of darkness fell again.

Because love was only for one night—a meeting under dim lights, a passion between the sheets, a wordless parting before daybreak.

Night was the only time when he felt alive.

His days were filled with the same routine and a pristine reputation he must uphold—he functioned like a precise machine. After the sun set, it finally felt like he was allowed to make mistakes, allowed to be human. It felt like he was allowed to sin under the protective cover of darkness, and sin he did. It didn't really matter with whom he spent the nights with, it didn't really matter whether they were a gentleman or a . His days were just too lonely, any kind of company in his nights was already considered a good one.

Love? He had no time for such fairytale.

They met under dying neon lights, in the middle of mists of smoke, enveloped by the scent of hard liquor, trapped between sweaty bodies dancing to the beats of desire instead of music. There was no room for pretense, they both knew what each other was looking for tonight. Conversation was not needed unless it was their bodies talking. It didn't take much to reach an agreement—a coy smile, some empty words, they both knew how the system worked. An offer to buy a drink to get the night going, a kiss to seal the deal, and a new relationship had begun—one night on the bed, and then it was goodbye.

"Our bodies seem compatible," he said, breathing heavily, sheen of sweat coating his body.

"Yeah. I'm such lucky bastard tonight...“ he smiled, quite dazzlingly, “You are gorgeous.”

“Charming, but save the sweet nothings for a lady,” he snorted unattractively, especially for a man with such delicate features.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” he laughed, “Up for another round?” a cheeky, inviting grin.

“Now, that’s a more interesting proposal…”

"Going already?" he asked from the bed, still in the middle of fulfilling his nicotine cravings.