A Line of Amber Light

I would watch the sun go down at nineteen hours. The sky above the rooftops had already begun to shift into a deep slate blue. I climbed up to the wide wooden ledge beside the balcony railing and rested my hands against the outer bar. Far across the open skyline, the last rim of orange light was sinking precisely behind a flat, horizontal rooftop. I watched silently as the bright sliver narrowed into a clean, level beam, then dipped out of sight. A cool evening breeze settled across the concrete, leaving the horizon in perfect, quiet balance.