Door opens and light fills the darkness. A 727 touches down on the runway in a cloud of tire smoke. The sun sets behind a small building. Darkness falls on the city. The full moon sets.
Constellations rotate counter clockwise around the north celestial pole.
A waning gibbous rises. The sun rises between the mittens. That's probably what saved my life, I'll tell you that. The handicap parking tag reflects on the windshield and matches with the sign outside. The car parks and brake lights go off.