"I don't care much about the night," Dave said as he left the office late one evening. It was a simple building and older than most in the city. Dave's work relied on light and this building was so old that it could not be adequately supplied with electricity. The generator out back hummed and sputtered and pinged to a halt as Dave turned it off, hoping to save as much gas as possible for the rest of the week. He looked back at his old office building in dismay. He always thought it would be easier to open his own business. The building's bricks were chipped in multiple places and the windows were broken, some completely broken. The roof leaked water every time it rained and sometimes even when it didn't rain. The wooden door he walked out of every night and entered every morning was in danger of falling off its hinges, but Dave didn't have the money to make the necessary repairs. He now wishes he had rented a building in the new downtown area, but money was tight at first, and when a humble old man offered to sell him the building right away, Dave jumped at the chance. Dave started walking home. Winter was the worst time of the year for him. He had tons of paperwork and not enough light to work with. The generator he could afford could only power a small wattage of lights and was simply not enough to get work done. My eyes are bad enough already, he thought as he took off his glasses to clean the snow from the lenses. Dave adjusted his hat again to cover his face better and put his bifocals back on his nose. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked home. It was a particularly dead night and not even the moon dared show its face. He had no car lights to illuminate his path. All it had was the occasional streetlight,... in the middle of a sheet of paper... and back on again. The traffic around him thinned out as he closed the distance, and the road became desolate and bumpy. Dave looked around. He saw his office in the distance and the lively, busy street he had left behind. Down the road in the opposite direction it was just as busy, but here, between the two thresholds of civilization, it was deserted. Dave stared at the lamp for a long time. It remained there, trembling, and nothing else. Finally he stepped into the light. It immediately got cold. The snow rose and swirled around him frantically. He wrapped himself in his jacket and began to shuffle towards his dilapidated office. He was more tired than he had ever been, and he was happy that it was night again. Once inside, Dave lit a fire in the fireplace. He laid his jacket on the moldy, rotten carpet and, using his hat as a pillow, fell asleep.