There's a big old amber moon lumbering up in the southern sky.
I drive home slowly from the village with my eyes cast over to the left to check it's still there. Stupid. I know it's still there. I must concentrate on the ribbon of road. I pause in gateways to spy more easily at its greatness and then drive on.
But then I turn towards the north and my heart skips a beat when a single orange eye meets mine in the mirror. An glare that is not from the eye of man nor beast, but is the sharp and singular gaze of the moon.
I am suddenly very alone and very small at the top of this low mountain, on my drive home. I feel this planet has somehow got the better of me. Are we playing cat and mouse?