18:18 Jul 06 2014
Times Read: 457
I stare out across the city; the jagged edges where it kisses the fields and houses seem to shrink back as I view them, as though I am being swallowed whole. A single bird flits briefly across my vision and I squint up at it. The harsh morning light makes it impossible to see its size and shape clearly -- but I hear the shriek of a jackdaw as it wheels once above me before arcing back the way it came.
The cigarette between my fingers is almost exhausted, and I draw the last of its smouldering life past my lips before flicking its remains down into the alley between my building and the next.
I say 'my building' simply because I live in it - I don't think I've owned anything beyond the clothes on my back my whole life.
I don't even pay rent. The place has been abandoned for years.
A hand pulls at mine. It is soft, and its slender fingers wrap gently yet persuasively around mine.
She does not speak, just tugs once more. I let myself be turned, and reluctantly I tear my eyes away from the sprawling skyline.
My shadow has engulfed her - her eyes seeming so dark they are almost deep pits in her skull.
A voice - not hers - calls from somewhere behind me. From an open window on the east side of the building.
It calls my name, and we return inside.
Of all my temporary homes, this one has been my most permanent. I know every cracked tile, every broken board and every exposed brick it has to show.
We pass the front room, holding our breaths - the mold and fungus from the lower levels has seeped through the floor, and is taking hold at a ferocious pace - one of the wall panels has already crumbled under its appetite.
The place should be condemned. Should have been years ago.
But no one wants to deal with it, and it hangs like a damp corpse, rotting as it stares out over the city; that's just the way it goes here, I guess.
Leaving the corridor we enter what I can only assume used to be a kitchen, swiftly exiting it again - I hop up onto the window ledge and swing to the side before dropping a floor onto the fire escape.
The twisted metal creaks under my boots, and I wait for a moment, half-crouched in the dry air. I watch a fine cloud of dust spray up around me, thick with blue paint flecks that cling stubbornly to the fabric of my pants.
Standing again, I run down the coiled steps - you have to build up enough speed if you want to clear the jump at the bottom.
As with every time I make this jump, my breath hisses in sharply as my feet leave the safety of the railing they launch from, only to leave me just as suddenly, as the impact from landing shudders up through my legs.
Stumble a few paces. Relax; exhale.
Above me I hear Kia's footsteps clatter against the metal, the sound of her boots almost an echo of my own as she hurtles down the stairs much quicker than I had, jumping and landing almost silently a step or two ahead of me.
She rolls with the impact, and the ground breathes up a soft, suffocating cloud of dust that dissipates almost instantly.
We cross a barren yard, and nod in silent appreciation as a door is held open for us.
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