Dusk to Dawn

She sat, in the depth of the noir, staring forwards with tired eyes.
She liked sitting in the dark; it was the only time when her thoughts could be free without the impairment and trickery of colour and light. She could hide in the dark - not just from others but from herself, too. Smiles and tears meant little in the vast emptiness of night, and without reflection barely existed. Without light, images and pictures are forced from the mind, with no fear of being seen - no awkward laugh or creased forehead, no forced response. Nothing. No pity. No judgement or robotic response. Just the same monotone space, welcoming or imposing, peaceful or haunting; however you choose to see it.
Everything is simpler without the confusion that each dawn brings.