Bi low, sell high
She dropped down, in a mask, and a pair of panties. Barefoot, I grabbed my mask, and rushed over to the balcony doors. “What are you doing out here?” I held my arms against the cold wind, blowing over the buildings, “Aren’t you cold?” “Of course, it’s fucking January!” I turned around as she went for the doors. “I got locked out on my balcony.” She stopped, and looked back. Barely covering herself with one hand, and holding the door with the other. Then, she looked up, and I saw the reflection, right before I was slammed down hard on the concrete. “But,” I was about to say we lived on the top floor, then I imagined her climbing up on her side, then walking across the roof. Topless, barefoot, wearing nothing but a mask, …