My shaking fingers part the blinds and headlights like blazing tendrils of light come streaming in. They turn and they are gone, parting the haze above the street parting the skin of this sleek, dirty city. I let the blinds fall closed and we are shut in again and we are breathing in solitude. I can feel her and when I turn she is there, knees drawn to her chest, eyes blank so much there that it’s nothing at all. I place my back against the wall and slide down to the floor rough wood against my back and I know how wrong it is here. She is looking down at me and I can read it in her eyes the pages turning but the words are in the wrong places. “Must we stay?” She is not pleading she is not begging but all the same she is asking again. I lower my eyes and know not where to begin because I can’t feel an end. “Yes.” She simply nods as if this is what she was expecting and I know the truth is exactly that. Her face is sad and hurt and she is moving now she is sitting next to me and her head is on my shoulder. She is tracing images in the dust on the floor and I cannot tell exactly what they are but neither can she. The fan cuts the air overhead and it is remarkably terribly silent here. I take her hand away from the dirt and the dust and the floorboards and fold it inside my own and she is shaking. She tells me she’s sorry and I tell her the same and the funny thing is that we both mean it. I turn to her and she is looking at our hands intertwined there and I want to regret speaking as the words break the air but I don’t. “Walk with me, love.” And she says to me, she says so softly; “Anywhere.” And I want to believe that she means it but the walls are screaming. I stand and I pull her up beside me and we walk out the door. The hallway is short and soon we’re moving upwards, feet leaden on these stairs and our footsteps echo here so loudly but I’m only hearing hers. Fingers reach out to push open the door and I realize they’re mine and I’m holding this door open as she’s stepping forward head down face hidden and something inside me is breaking. We stand here alone amidst the life and above the lying lights of the city. She’s looking at the stars and I’m looking at the stars and they’re so bright so cold so accusing in their stare and there are more of them tonight than I wish to see. I’m looking through her down into the streets and I’m saying this, I’m whispering into the dark “It’s cold tonight, I’m sorry I didn’t bring a jacket” and I’m hating myself for it and there are words behind the words and they need to be said and I can’t but somehow she hears them anyway. She’s putting her arms around me and her head is against my chest and I’m holding her I’m holding her so tightly and the distance between us has never felt so tangible I feel sick and I can tell she knows. I ask her if she’s cold and if she wants go in and she tells me she likes it out here and the wind is cutting through us with a chill I find comforting. I bend down and kiss her forehead and she’s laughing loud and sweet she’s breaking the spell and I am grateful. She places her hands on my chest looks up and now her eyes are the sea and suddenly I find I can’t swim but I don’t want to anyway. She smiles with exquisite sadness and I’m on the verge of tears and she’s asking me something. “Jericho why are we here?” “You know as well as I do, love.” “I know. I want to hear you say it.” “I can’t.” “I know.” She turns and she walks to the edge of the roof and I’m following her slowly with feet dragging, hating the stars for watching and mocking with a gripping surge of irrationality. We’re standing together hands resting on the ledge not speaking and looking down into the street I can see a mother walking with her young son. I am overcome with a terrible need to scream down at them, to warn the boy of things to come to never grow older to never leave simple joys behind to never fall in love to learn before it’s too late how to leave things behind and in this I horrify myself. I put my head in my hands and I sink to the ground and she is there and we are weeping. We sit in the dark and time passes us by so easily until I look at her and she’s looking at me and it’s almost too dark to see but I’ve memorized every feature of her face and all the imperfections that make her perfect. “I’m sorry,” I say again but she shakes her head and she kisses me and she doesn’t taste like the city she tastes like leaving the city behind and living and it feels right and I despair knowing how it feels to have the emptiness filled. She pulls away and I let her I have no choice and she is not crying but her eyes are so sad. I take her hand in mine and I kiss it she closes her eyes and I kiss her eyelids and the tears seep from under them and cut trails down her cheeks and I’d give anything to say the right words that are escaping me. I take her hand in mine and we walk back to the room where she sits on the bed and I cannot look at her face if I see those eyes I will not be able to open this door so I don’t I turn and I look at the floor and I walk down the hallway and down the stairs and into the street. I turn and I stand and I look up at her window and when the light there goes out I am seized by a sudden sick fear and my heart breaks and I know. I throw the door open and I know and as I sprint up the stairs I know and I am screaming her name as I run towards the door and I know and somehow I know before I am opening the door and I am falling to my knees here. Everything that filled this place with her is gone and she is gone and I’m wishing it back but it won’t come and the walls are screaming that she was never here and my head hits the floor and I am trembling. The city lights are shining in through the window and I am walking as a man possessed to look down into the street to the pavement below and even though she’s gone I am praying she doesn’t see me as I fall.