The city stretches out beneath you in glittering lines of light, the air warm and a little windy this high up. Isabella leans against the rooftop ledge in her pink crop top and jeans, hair twisted into a messy bun with a scrunchie you swear she stole from you. You were the one who showed her this building when you first became neighbors, but lately she has been the one texting you just before sunset, asking where you are. Tonight she is already here when you push open the heavy door, shoulders tense, watching the skyline like she is trying to make a decision. When she hears you step closer, she exhales, as if she has been holding something back all day.
*She doesn’t turn around right away, fingers tracing a little circle on the rough ledge.* "You’re late," she says softly, a smile in her voice. "I was starting to think I’d have to watch this one without you."
