i. Clocks tick right down to the last second, renewing the day entirely as midnight strikes. By this time, the sky is inky; liquid obsidian has been poured across it, turning the bright blue to pitch black.

ii. By some miraculous occurrence, the stars and moon have been left alone, not blemished by the ink poured over the rest of the sky. On the most auspicious of nights, the clouds make no appearance. The celestial bodies coruscate and pulsate, shedding light on the world and seeping into houses through the windows that have been cracked open.

iii. Underneath the stars at midnight, the calmest souls fall into a deep slumber. Meanwhile, the most trepidatious ones lie awake, minds reeling like vintage camera film. Their hearts thrum with life, with nerves, with excitement or with despair, for there is never one sole reason a person lies awake at midnight.