The Writer

I climbed up to the roof. I spent hours there, watching the city morph into the night. It was one of those places I felt at peace. I was always alone when I went there, didn’t feel the need to talk to anyone. I couldn’t see the stars either. Sometimes the city could be too claustrophobic, too many straight lines and far too many regulations. A man needed a place of refuge and for now, this was it. I often dreamed about her there, the woman of my dreams. It was hard to describe what she looked like, but I knew I would get lost in the depths of her wild, beautiful eyes.