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go outside on a cold fall night. breathe in the smell of burning wood and leaves. take a walk. let the air bite through your jacket, into your skin. look at the fallen leaves illuminated in street lights. walk, keep walking. try not to trip over uneven cracks in the sidewalk. your mind feels clear, save for the word soliloquy. whisper it to yourself, maybe. look up through the canopy of branches and dying leaves above you, at the moon. it is full. stupid terrible werewolf jokes. you hate werewolves. there's a dog across the street, and it is looking at you.