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As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and bruised purple, a melancholic hush falls over the city. The once-bustling streets become corridors of solitude, bathed in the soft, silver glow of the streetlights. ️ A gentle rain begins to fall, each drop a tiny tear tracing its way down the glistening pavement. The raindrops, like lonesome whispers, patter against rooftops and windowpanes, their rhythm a mournful counterpoint to the city’s fading heartbeat. ☔️ The streetlights, those solitary sentinels of the night, stand like silent sentinels, their golden beams casting long, lonely shadows that stretch and writhe like phantoms in the wind. Their light, a beacon in the gathering darkness, seems to hold a silent yearning, a longing for the warmth and laughter that have vanished with the daylight. ✨ The wind, a mournful sigh, rustles through the denuded branches of the trees, their leaves like skeletal fingers clawing at the
