Iron and Air

The window yielded with a dull scrape. I climbed over the sill, stepping out onto the black slatted iron of the fire escape. Outside, the city was open. Down below, tires rolled across asphalt, a low, continuous rumble that vibrated through the metal under my boots. I moved forward to the railing and gripped the cold steel bar with both gloved hands. A sudden gust hit the facade, but I planted my stance and held firm against the wind. Through the heavy bars, I felt the structural groan of the building meeting the street.