The traffic lights are on red for the cars coming from every direction. Even the train lights are crimson. To the west, the dying orange glow of the sinking sun colours a sky not yet turned indigo. The lights change and we race away, past an oncoming train, and toward the dark barrier of the mountains. The night, which is filled with twilight blue and gold, seems full of potential as it awaits the full moon. It may be that our lunar friend, having crossed the horizon, waits hidden behind buildings, ready to spring out at us.