Rooftop Risque (part one?)
My heart pounds as I take the steps three at a time. I don’t know where I’m going except up. Out. I don’t stop running until I reach the heavy metal door at the top of the staircase and push past it. My chest is heaving, my pulse racing a mile a minute. The door shuts behind me with a loud clunk, and a sinking feeling melts through me. I try the door handle. Fuck. Fuck. Panic surges through me, and then disappears as an overwhelming sense of exhaustion sinks into my body. I’m still gasping, but at least now I’m gasping in the cool night air. The sounds of New York City surround me, but from a distance. They can’t reach me. I slump down onto the asphalt roof with my back against the …