a study on diction and style. the weary

The lamp cast its lurid glow.
It’s audience a lone woman.
Smoke caressed her raisoned face.
Sirens raced into the night.
Her back to a café wall; she dared not move for fear of the unspoken.
A wind rasped her shoulders.
Silence.
Dark met her; they conversed for a while.
She was weary she said.
Dark gave his condolences.
Frothy stars came out to dance.
She cared not.
Something unspeakable.
Something grim.
She wrapped her coat tightly around her shoulders.
Wandering back to her shift, the street lamp’s company resigned.