Light surrounded the entrance, a glowing torch dipped in fog, a raucous roar erupting faintly, quieted in the distance, striking in brief moments, lulled by long stretches of silence. The crunch of tires rolled over small patches of gravel, coming to a halt. The engine knocked harshly before dying, returning the asphalt plain to stillness. A lengthy pause extends, words and searching filling the wait before a door opens followed by another. The conversation within continued as they drew without.
David Cain, Song of Songs