The doctor spent a lot of time standing in the lonely circle of light caused by that street lamp.

He stood with his arms crossed conservatively over his chest, puffs of hot breath leaving his mouth with every exhale, and squinting through the misty frames of his glasses into the dark. Though a young doctor of only thirty-one, frown lines had long ago etched themselves into his forehead and his mouth was most commonly pulled into a grim perpendicular line. Under one of these street lamps stood a man in a crisp white uniform. The stars winked comfortingly from their ancient vigil in the cosmos, and a few billowing clouds of mist ambled through the sleeping city, leaving the sky above them clear and making the silhouette of the large, vigilant hospital building look soft and vague in the light of the street lamps. The moon shone down from its fixed point in the black, endless sky, its godlike eye illuminating the city of Chandler in a soft radiance that rocked its inhabitants to sleep. To distract themselves from their own country's problems.ДЄnd desperate corner-cubicle sons call home, Sitting in the 105th floor finance section of the building.ДЄmerica with coverups and sex scandals andДЄnd a population with the eyes of the godless

Quiet coyote