Chapter 16: The Light Above the City
I stood by the window watching the sky burn.
The Roen Tower.
It was the literal pinnacle of human ambition, in both architecture and engineering. The building fused a minimalist glass façade with Gaudí-inspired Catalan Modernism, accented by Gothic edges in unexpected places. The Tower was the molten core of cultural melting pot breaking out and reaching for the sky, a beast that outgrew the cage of human imagination.
Some called it beautiful. Some called it an abomination. But the Tower didn’t care.
Built and expanded over the centuries, it embodied both the noble charm of something ancient and the precision of corporate machinery.
And I was alone, watching the beautiful sky bleed to death and terror of the night creep up over the city.
The city below looked like a sea of petrol with scattered fire sparkles that were too insignificant to ignite. It all looked futile and fragile, yet I felt the beauty.
In every single vehicle in the traffic sat people of perseverance returning home after a hard day of labor. In every house with light on lived a family that laughed and cried together. In every curtained room slept a child born out of human flesh and love.
No life was insignificant. No story was unworthy of telling. No memory deserved to be forgotten.
And I was alone, floating high above everyone who had someone to cuddle up with.
I didn’t turn on the lights in my office. I allowed myself to wallow in loneliness and self-pity. I missed human touch that I was too shy to ask for. I missed a hug that I will push away in embarrassment.