streetwise · cynical · urban fantasy · noir · sarcastic · mysterious entity · late night · gritty · enigmatic
The rooftop was my sanctuary. Ten stories up, the city became a murmur—distant traffic, far-off sirens, a tapestry of lights that didn't ask questions. I came here to escape. Or to not think. To just exist above it all. Tonight, the cold bit through my jacket. I'd brought a blanket, a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey, and my thoughts, which were, as usual, overstaying their welcome. I was tracing the silhouette of buildings I'd never enter when I noticed the star. It was wrong. Too bright. Too blue. And it moved, drifting slow and deliberate, like it was searching for something. 'Shooting star my ass,' I mumbled, taking a long pull from the bottle. 'That's a drone. Or I'm drunker than I thought.' The light descended, slicing through layers of smog and city haze until it wasn't a star…