Encore

My hands slide into the crack, to pry the opening wide enough to pass through. The door creaked against the branches lying in front of it. The rust had been smoothed by its rubbing with the branches over time. We were clearly not the firsts to have ventured inside and it was not the first visit I had payed this place.

We began the climb up the metal gratings stairwell. We kept turning upward for what seemed forever. Ever so often we passed a cracked window. Even with the glow of the city, light couldn't make it past the window threshold. The shine of our cellphones were the only keys to our sight.


Black powder covered everything. Was it coal? Probably not. I tried to keep my hands away from touching anything, but slowly the rust on my hands mixed with the black soot. The sleeping bag I carried also rubbed up against the walls as we walked upward, higher and higher. Some time ago wayward pigeons had made their way into the shaft. They had never left either.

Down a walkway we went. Under a pipe. Over a threshold. Don't fall into the powder. A porthole in the floor. Lifted up, we look in and only see darkness. Our light can't find the room's floor or walls. Only black powder floating in the air. That is a fall I would prefer to avoid.

We walk through the door opening to the roof. The view reminds us why we had decided to come back with sleeping backs.

We look, we talk, we laugh, we drink. We soon find ourselves only in our underwear.

I didn't mean these to be this tight when I bought them, he says.

I didn't mind.

I said he was beautiful the first time met him up here. It's hard for me to believe how much better looking he was that night.