They didn’t live in a penthouse. They couldn’t afford a flying car. But he did have a key to the roof.
She hung back in the stairwell doorway and watched as he stepped out onto the parking platform. Her eyes were drawn to the fifty-story gulf below as though she expected the steel pad to give way at any moment. He held out his hand. She took it.
The city stretched out before them, an orchestra of twenty million people playing a symphony of urban life just for them.
And as the moon rose above the distant hills, they danced.

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