by J.S. Breukelaar
Bobby geared up and went to find the DJ, but the DJ had left the building. He pushed through a door and began to climb the stairs, dark drifts of dust at the edges. At the top he pushed hard against another door and there she was, up on the roof, sitting with her back to him high above the silent streets. “Listen to me," the DJ said. He wiped his eyes and sat down beside her on the ledge, his legs dangling into space and the wind gusting all around. He knew she would not let him fall.
J.S. Breukelaar is a writer based in Sydney, Australia.