You sit on the edge of the building, your arms wrapped around your knees as if they’re the only thing holding you together. The cold concrete beneath you offers no comfort, but you stay there anyway, anchored by the weight in your chest. Below, the city carries on, oblivious to the ache behind your ribs. Horns blare, people laugh, lights flicker on one by one but it all feels so distant, like you’re watching the world from behind glass.

The sun begins to set, bleeding orange and crimson into the sky beautiful and bittersweet, like the way things used to feel between you. Now it only reminds you of what you’ve lost. Of the words shouted in anger. Of the way his voice broke when he said, “Then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

You hadn’t planned to come here. Your feet just took you. This rooftop was supposed to be your shared escape your quiet place. But tonight, it’s just you and the echo of that fight, playing on loop in your head.

You don’t hear the faint whoosh behind you, nor the light thud of boots on concrete. You’re too deep in thought, replaying every word, every second you wished you could take back.

“You’ve been avoiding me”