MIKE’S DUE PIZZA

The light is not on by accident.

It is waiting for customers. Or trouble.

At night, when the city grows colder and the roads feel longer, this place stays open. For people not ready to go home. Or with no home to go to. For those coming from parties, work, wandering.

And for those who, at two in the morning, have apparently concluded that pizza is the most sensible decision still available.

Mike’s Pizza Due is more than a shop. It is a pause.

The door stays open. The light stays on. The counter remains occupied.

There is warmth, something to eat, a few minutes of order.

Outside, the night carries on.

Inside, there is cheese.

Sometimes civilisation really does not need to be more complicated than that.

The red light remains suspicious. It pushes away and pulls in. Warning and warmth at the same time. Part red-light district, part rescue station.

No conversations can be heard. No faces are visible.

And still, you have a fairly good idea who eventually turns up here after midnight.

Places like this hold the night together.

With light.

With reliability.

And probably a great deal of mozzarella.