It was a little bit past six in the evening. Where on most days, EDSA would be specked by red rear and head lights, tonight was dark, the gray of the asphalt showing through the few that tread the highway. Through one window of the MRT above was a view of a motorcycle cruising through EDSA below. Framed by the glass window was a couple: the man on the front whose eyes were intent on the road, and the woman behind him, her legs the only latch to the motorcycle. Her eyes, unlike the man, was pasted on a small glowing screen of her phone. It was the only bright light below.
(writing practice inspired by unphotographable.com)