Nightline Acoustic Check

Night fell over the balcony concrete, turning the open city below into a grid of amber streetlights. Up on the top metal rail, someone had left behind an empty dark glass bottle of sparkling water. I reached up, gripped the cool rim with both palms, and hoisted myself onto the flat iron bar. Leaning low, I blew a slow, steady stream of air right across the bottle's open mouth. A deep, rich bass note rolled out—woooom—vibrating against my chest like a low subwoofer dropping into an empty arena. I rested my palm on the chilly glass, chin dipped, letting the resonance drift out into the dark skyline.