Claiming the Pipe

The wind out here on the ledge was biting, but I wasn't heading back inside. Right past the rumbling vent, a vertical zinc drainpipe dropped straight down into the shadows, anchored to the dark brick with heavy iron brackets. Tch. An open ladder just waiting for me. I leaped across the gap, wrapping my curved hands tight around the cold, rounded metal collar of the topmost bracket. *Clink!* My rigid boots slammed against the corrugated seam. Below me, city streetlights flickered to life across the concrete, cast in a dim yellow glow. The hollow metal vibrated with every gust, groaning right beneath my grip. Hah. Let the heights get steeper—I'm not letting go.