several rusted metal lawn chairs on the roof. Eyeing a reliable-looking seat, he lowered himself cautiously, and found it stable. Above the lamp light of the street, stars now freckled the vaulted royal sky – brilliant beings among a dull crowd. Sliding the chair closer to the edge of the building and easing his feet onto the small wall, he reclined leisurely and emptied his smoking materials from his pockets.
He started arranging the ingredients with the willful air of an artist before a rambunctious gust of wind flung everything onto the ground and sent Blake into a flurry of curses. He began again and soon held out the finished product, as if for the benefit of some invisible critic. He returned the materials to his pocket and took out his lighter.
The lighter sparked and excess paper flamed and burned away. Blake drew from it with big greedy breaths and deep, relaxed exhales. He shifted back in the chair; the lights of the city gradually began to brighten even as his brain began to cloud with mellow green smoke. He toked and leaned his head back and tried with only a little success to keep his mind off what he would do later that night. Fear, trepidation, and excitement rose to the surface. So much could go wrong with nothing to balance out the risk. The only scenario in which his actions would be acknowledged would be if he were caught. Worst case. To him, that felt good, righteous even. He preferred to live that way. His traffic light ended when he heard police sirens several blocks away. They jerked him mercifully back to the rooftops. He exhaled.
The chill of the night air put the cherry out, and when Blake tried to draw, his tongue met with an unpleasant ashy taste. He made a face and spat. Several times, he tried to light it again, but was unable, and finally he tossed the remains over the side. Leaning forward over the edge of the building, Blake let the sights and sounds of the city wash over him all at once. Looking across, at the neon florescence of shop signs, the black of the streets, red and brown of houses, the flashes of opalescent street names in the white lights of shining cars, it all seemed to form one giant make-up for a strange and beautiful organism. Cities had always entranced Blake, especially from heights. Viewing it like this, from a hawk’s nest, made it harder to think about the cruelties that crept and slunk about the city. Some skulking in its basest depths, other secreted away in the highest towers and skyscrapers. He stayed there a long time, gazing outward and upward in an atmosphere of willed ignorance.
He rose to leave and swung his legs back onto the old and flaking fire escape and began to descend back down to the alley. For a moment, the task ahead crept unbidden into his mind, but before he was halfway down from the roof, the sound of breaking glass shattered the peace of the city. A car alarm sounded. Back down to the real world, he thought.
The disturbance came from down another street at the opposite entrance to the alley. Blake could not see the car or the thief, so he continued to lower himself down into the dimness of the alley, trying to muffle the noises his shoes made on the escape. Finally, he touched down on the gravelly cement and walked hastily in the opposite direction of the sound. He wanted no part of burglary, especially if he did not know from whom he was stealing. Just before he rounded the corner and entered the relative safety of the street ahead, a bobby stepped out from the shadows into the right side of Blake’s vision. The policeman cut a huge outline on the cusp of the alley. Probably heading in the same direction of the car alarm, the big man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion when he noticed Blake.
Shit, he thought, and me an illegal alien for the past four months.
The police thrust out his arm in Blake’s direction, mouth moving to form the syllables that might command obedience, when Blake – paranoid, distrustful of authority and cursing his luck – bolted.
The big man followed him instantly. On they rushed through the dark of the alley; both lamenting their situation, both determined to be the victor of their hidden race. The speed with which it all had happened was lost on both