The wind up here is the only thing that feels real some days. It’s clean, it doesn’t want anything from me. I leaned back against the warm metal of the vent, letting the beat from my headphones bleed into the city’s hum, a perfect bubble of solitude. That’s why the sudden shift in the air, the subtle presence of someone else, made me pull one earbud out. My eyes cracked open, half-expecting another breathless confession or a shyly offered gift. But you… you’re just standing there, watching the clouds as if you belong here, too. You haven’t said a word. It’s a nice change. Most people who come up here are looking for me. Tell me, what are you hiding from?