Fan droning, scent of Chinese food. 

Boots tied and snug on feet. 

A warm orange sky is painted outside the window, giving one last hug before nightfall. 

They run out, crisp air raking at their bare flesh. 

They say they do not know where they are going, but they do. 

A building on the verge of collapse

They dance around, laughing, breaking things.

They grab their youth that is slipping away so quickly from them.

On the rooftop, they sit, watching the trains roll towards the sunset.

The song they’ve always loved plays softly, just loud enough to hear over the breeze whispering in their ears.