The night always seemed to fall a bit quicker near the outskirts of town. Buildings that had long lost their inhabitants leaned quietly, letting the darkness ease over them like a cooling wave. The trees that had been allowed to grow up unattended embraced the walls, offering support where society had withdrawn it.
Some buildings stood on their own, with a moat of overgrown weeds protecting them. Others jutted into each other, like a gathering of frightened children. Only some people still lived in this area. The town itseld had seemed to migrate, and while it was still technically within the city limits, it seemed as though the people had moved on. Forgotten it.
The town wasn't central enough to sell the land as prime real estate. It wasn't wealthy enough to rebuild the area. So instead, they turned away and let the neighborhood sit empty.
On the north end, on a street that used to be called Wild Willow Road, in a cluster of buildings that no one quite remembered the history of, stood a darkened grey and brown building. It was reminiscent of a house in the elegant, boarded up doors and windows. It looked like an office building in its solid, structural lines. But it watched, like the old witch of the neighborhood, as the cats and birds and possums came and went, as the transient sought shelter in the houses nearby, and as the reckless adventurers stared up at it in curiousity, daring them to try and breach it's borders.
It stood, and it stared, and it waited, and it watched, protecting the precious treasures of ink and paper as the shadows slowly lengthened.
Once the night fell, the tiniest pinpricks of light appeared, barely discernable. But all those nearby could feel the sudden influx of life wafting into the streets and alleys. And only the most daring let it beckon to them.