A melancholic man trips down a lonely boulevard at midnight. His head sinks, and a cold rain drips from his long hair onto the withered sidewalk. He passes the warm diner, the smell of delicious food neither enticing nor inviting enough to draw him in on this night.
A sudden wave of street water drenches his already damp suit as the garbage truck plows through the river that formed along the curb. His briefcase drops and bursts open, releasing a whirlwind of papers. A rush of energy inspires him to recollect them, but a glimmer of light sticks him to the cement.
From within the monsoon of newly soaked legal documents, a photograph glistens with the beacon of a blue neon sign. A pang of reminiscence strikes, and the picture fades away into the finality of the dark.