Nightline Routine

The wind picked up once the sun dipped completely. Instead of heading back through the sliding door, I pulled myself up onto the horizontal metal rail of the balcony. The steel was cold against my palms. I planted my boots along the cylindrical curve, locked my knees, and checked the drop. Two meters of straight, unobstructed line. I worked through a slow hip-sway transition, testing friction against the painted metal. A distant siren echoed, but my footing never twitched. It’s quiet up here at night, but the air keeps you sharp.