At night

The students have gone. Outside sounds like a different place. For two weeks, ever since pens were laid down, the last words scribbled on exam papers and the final timed seconds written off, the nights have been filled with shouts and laughs, with whimsical discussions. The sounds of ‘I can’t believe it’s over’, and ‘it’ll never be the same again’ tinged the air like smoke. Now the students' innuendo-, in-joke-laden chatter has been replaced by the whispers of trees. Only the urban fox loiters in the square, there’s not even any need for the self-appointed square-keeper to rid the grass of wrappers, barbecue leftovers and rogue bottles. There is a natural quiet.