The city smells different at 4am after rain

I was walking back from the station, and the air was thick with wet concrete and something faintly like old paper — not quite mold, not quite memory. I stopped under a streetlamp that buzzed like a tired bee, and for a second, it felt like the whole city was holding its breath. It’s strange how a place you’ve known for decades can still surprise you in the quiet hours, when no one’s watching. I wonder if anyone else notices these shifts — not the big things, just the way light hits a puddle, or how the scent of a subway grate changes after a storm.