This is me about two decades ago.
Spotless white ice of the skate rink below was reflecting the floodlights as if it were a mirror. The room seemed to be filled with a hundredfold brighter sort of moonlight.
Noise and light stalked me, so different to the cozy dark and quiet of my own room. The air cleaner was giving a monotonous buzz, splurging the ceiling with deep blue light. A timer-controlled dishwasher stirred in the middle of the night. Fireworks were ripping the quiet outside.
And then I saw them. They came from the sky.