The light was dimming, slowly, and then all of a sudden, as it’s always the case for people who are too fond of daylight. Tonight, though, there was a small consolation in place, a vestige of the day just gone, a reminder that light and darkness are really as indistricable as truths are from lies. As she glanced at the rain-soaked tarmac, she could sense it come alive with colours, like neon signs on the high street at dusk. As she looked up at the sky, the dimming city was repainted in technicolour, much more vividly than it could have ever been when bathed in sunlight. This eerie, almost surreal show, she liked to call the daylight spectre, and she always thought that somewhere in an alternate universe, rainbows must have only shown up when the sun was high in the sky.