Multiversal

Who: Don and Kalinda
What: A promise kept.
Where: A rooftop (kind of) bar, Canker Wedge.
When: St. Fuck-this-holiday-I'm-going-drinking
Warnings: Help I can't think of anything flippant.

On this block in Canker Wedge, in a gap between buildings so slight the wind holds its breath to squeeze through, stairs rise from nowhere. A glowing railing corkscrews into the sky in a silver strand. The first step clangs metallic underfoot; as Don sets his hand on the railing its light fades then begins to pulsate. The climb isn't as steep, doesn't last as long as it should. It feels like flipping forward in a book.

At the top is a star-flecked night blanketing a distant city. For a while he drinks in the view; for a while it offers the same soothing burn as a glass of whiskey. Then he makes his way between the two long counters reaching for the bar. Heat blooms in unexpected pockets along the way: it's warmer up here than it is inside.

He orders a drink and as he waits realizes there's no music playing.