Night Perch

I climbed the vertical access ladder to the small catwalk girding the water tank's conical roof. Night has swallowed the rooftops, but the city below is wide open. Balanced on the narrow galvanized iron rung, I slid both billy clubs back into their thigh holster, freeing my hands. The reservoir behind me holds thousands of gallons in complete stillness, a dense silence cutting through the Sunday night roar. Pressing one palm flat against the cool zinc rim, I felt the distant pulse of an uptown express rumbling deep through the bedrock. Everything in this quadrant is accounted for.