Rooftops

I have a deep appreciation for rooftops. It's almost an infatuation actually. And to be barefoot on a cold rooftop at night? Few things are better. I'm not sure why I they make me so happy. I suppose it isn't unlike the comforting feeling that some people get from having their bed made perfectly, hospital corners all tucked neatly, no wrinkles. Or the excitement that others get when they win a prize out of a claw machine. Even if the prize isn't worth fifty cents, let alone the five dollars in change spent to win it. But neatly made beds and claw machine treasures don't do it for me. No, I'll take my rooftops, best reached from fire escapes with bare feet. Preferably when the sky is lit up with the bridge, and the Chrysler building and the only visible stars shine from overpriced apartments. I recommend cherry cigars for the occasion, although silence is sometimes enough.