The Urban Species

The sun awakens and peeks its sleepy head over the mountain cap, languidly. The air is still as everyone begins to rise and cars start leisurely pouring out into the streets, before the panic and chaos of the rush hour begins. Some light trickles in through somnolent children's windows as the coffee pots sing like a church choir.
The sun is now fully aroused and is standing tall, gazing down on us with beating rays. A leaf detached from a flaccid branch and gently grazes the ground. The American flag is raised and flaps torpidly in the breeze.
Doors in office blocks are closed with askew signs reading "Do Not Disturb" as office workers ravenously devour unappetizingly crushed sandwiches with limp lettuce leaves. The crack of a soda can pierces the air with an expeditious release of flavored chemicals and foaming bubbles. A slurp and burp soon follow.
The health conscious run anxiously around the inexhaustible city blocks, time crunching to ensure they have adequate minutes to change back into jejune attire. Still constantly busy flitting through feculent streets and sanitary corridors.
As the sun rides across the sky and retires behind the western mountain range all eyes sink heavily as the cooling air circulates in and out of car nostrils. The engines splutter and spit as they grind to a halt and keys are haphazardly withdrawn.
Meals are present and inattentively swallowed, the plates are planted in the sink and beds are unmade. Early risers creep in-between the sheets and all lights are razed, eyes are closed.