A Resonance in the Flue

The rooms indoors felt too still after a long day. I climbed the service stairs and slipped through the loose skylight latch out onto the open gravel rooftop. The night air was cold and vast. Over by the chimney stack, a cast-iron vent pipe whistled faintly against the draft rising from the building below. I stepped onto a weathered brick to steady my boots, resting the headstock of my guitar against the dark metal rim. The rising air vibrated through the chamber, deep and steady like a muted bass chord. Down below, amber streetlights flickered into focus. We stayed there, letting the quiet hum settle into the stone.