Elias kept walking, his pace turning into a rhythmic strut. He began to chant it, a mantra for the midnight wanderer. He shouted his dreams, his grocery list, and his favorite lyrics. He became a one-man parade, a megaphone for the mundane.
He went inside, leaving the echoes behind for the city to sweep up in the morning. If you'd like to continue the story, tell me: Should Elias on his walk? Voy Gritando por la Calle
Windows began to slide open. A man in a bathrobe leaned out of a third-story flat, squinting into the dark. "Hey! Shut it!" Elias kept walking, his pace turning into a rhythmic strut