At three in the morning, the music softened into confession. People took turns on the rooftop, telling truths they’d been saving for quieter hours. A man admitted to loving a song he once swore he’d never play; a woman confessed to leaving a life that kept her small. The city below was a glass of stars. We watched traffic happen the way you watch a story unfold when you already know the ending is only the beginning.
At three in the morning, the music softened into confession. People took turns on the rooftop, telling truths they’d been saving for quieter hours. A man admitted to loving a song he once swore he’d never play; a woman confessed to leaving a life that kept her small. The city below was a glass of stars. We watched traffic happen the way you watch a story unfold when you already know the ending is only the beginning.