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One quiet evening, long after most of the city had gone to sleep, Nikola sat alone at his desk beside the narrow window of his apartment.
The street outside was almost completely empty, illuminated only by the soft yellow glow of a few streetlights.
Occasionally a car passed slowly through the intersection below, its headlights briefly reflecting across the walls of the room before disappearing again into the darkness.
Nikola had been working for several hours, though the document open on his laptop still looked almost the same as when he had started.
Several sentences appeared on the screen, but none of them felt finished.
He leaned back in his chair and looked around the quiet room.
Books were stacked unevenly on the shelves beside the desk, and a few loose pages covered with notes were scattered across the table.
Somewhere in the apartment building a door closed softly.
Moments like this often made him realize how different the city felt at night.
During the day everything moved quickly and noisily.
But after midnight the world seemed to slow down, as if the entire city had taken a deep breath.
Nikola returned his attention to the screen and began typing again, hoping that eventually the words would begin to make sense.