A labyrinth, millions upon millions of glittering lights and sheets of glass stacked atop one another, woven with steel and aluminum and rising endlessly above him to touch the ink-black sky.
He looks up and he wonders, touches his fingers to his pulse to make sure there’s still something there. He thinks he might burn himself because his blood’s a forest fire beneath his skin, but he is alive, he is alive, and he can feel the city’s heartbeat in time with his own below his feet.
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