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>Your heart is slamming against your ribcage.
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>Your legs burn, but not unpleasantly so.
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>Your arms feel heavy, and your head feels heavier.
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>None of these are unfamiliar feelings.
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>As a matter of fact, you love them.
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>In another life you’d probably be a runner.
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>You look back to see if they’re catching up.
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>Of course not.
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>You can’t help but laugh as you continue running, your breath visible in the frigid air.
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>Expertly dipping and weaving your way through the crowd, you dive over the hood of a car, rolling to keep your momentum on the other side.
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>You run until you finally make it to your car, throwing the door open and tossing your bag in the back.
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>You jam your key into the ignition and listen to the engine roar to life.
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>You take half a second to adjust your mirrors before slamming it into reverse and pulling out onto the street.
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>You huff and puff, glancing in the rearview mirror every now and then in case they catch up to you.
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>They never have before.
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>You get a call.
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>You reach to the back seat to try and locate your phone, but give up as it finally stops ringing.
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>If it was important, they’ll leave a message.
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>The car comes to a halt in your usual spot, just outside the apartment complex.
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>You grab your shit and hop out of the car, rushing upstairs to your apartment.
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>When you enter, you flip on the tv and change it to the local news.
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>There it is. Your latest work.
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>It’s a landscape, a snowy mountain pass in the sunset; the foreground dotted with snowy trees, stripped of all life. You spray painted it on the side of an old brick building. It took all night.
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>You smile, reading the headline.
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“Anonymous Painter Strikes Again.”
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>If only they knew how apt that headline is.
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>You are Anonymous, and you crave attention.
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>Any kind, really. Good, bad, doesn’t matter to you.
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>You’re an artist. The more attention you get, the more people see your art.
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>The more people who see your art, the more happy you are.
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>Is it pretentious? Yeah.
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>Do you care? No.
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>This is the 4th time you’ve done a public painting. Or as the police call it, ‘Vandalism.’
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>You hear a pounding on the door.
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>Your smile dies with the television.
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>You toss the remote on the couch and speed walk to the door, looking through the peephole.
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>It’s your neighbor, Sunset Shimmer.
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>You pop the door open and lean against the doorframe.
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“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, eyebrow raised.
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>”Oh cut the shit, Anon. I know it was you. Again,” she says, pushing past you and into the apartment.
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“Woah, Sunny, relax. What’s the problem?” You ask, closing the door behind her.
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>”Don’t ‘Sunny’ me Anon, you know what the problem is. Not only did you almost get caught this time, but when I called you didn’t answer!”
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>Oh, so it was Sunset who called you. That actually was important.
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>You sigh, grabbing her shoulders, pulling the leather of her jacket taught.
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“Sunset, I’m sorry. Okay? I was already driving when you called me. You know I would’ve answered it if I could.”
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>Her eyes dart around your face, full of an untraceable emotion.
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>You take a mental snapshot, saving this moment for later.
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>She sighs, hugging you.
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>”I would say don’t do that again, but I know you will. Just…” she pulls back, looking into your eyes. “Be careful.”
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>You smile.
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“Of course, Sunny.”
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>She suddenly breaks the embrace, blushing profusely.
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>Internally, you sigh. Externally, you keep your cool.
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“So, did you like it?”
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>She looks at you with a surprised smirk.
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>”Of course I did. The color pallete was phenomenal. You’re so fucking talented that it blows me away sometimes.”
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“Oh yes, please keep stroking my ego!” you grin, opening the fridge and taking out the OJ.
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>She rolls her eyes. “Oh shut up,” she says, taking a seat on the couch and turning the TV back on.
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>She looks to you, pensive. “What did you think?”
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>You tilt your head.
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“Like, while I was painting it?”
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>She nods.
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>You lean against the counter and think.
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>Should you tell her?
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>Of course it’s her.
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>She’s your biggest inspiration.
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>You love her, and it comes across in everything you paint.
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>Every single painting you do is lighted by the Sunset.
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>Often your paintings reflect your feelings.
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>This most recent painting is deliberately cold, isolating, and lonely.
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>Because you’re unsure if you’re ready, or if she feels the same.
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>So you pushed her away, into the distance of the painting, while your daily life, the foreground, became cold and barren.
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>No. You know now’s not the time.
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>But what do you say?
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“Honestly, I was thinking about home.”
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>She pauses the TV to take a closer look at the painting, thoughtful.
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>You take this opportunity to study her.
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>Every little thing she does makes you crazy.
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>You shake your head and drink your OJ.
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>She turns back to you. “Where’d you grow up?”
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“Montana,” you say in between sips.
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“My family had 300 acres of land, and I grew up playing in the snowy forest. I get nostalgic a lot,” you say, tossing out the carton.
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>She looks back to the TV. “So this was another ‘snapshot’?”
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>You nod.
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“Yeah. It was February, I think.”
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>You move back into the living room to look a the painting.
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>”What were you feeling during this ‘snapshot’?”
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>You fold your arms, deciding to tell a half truth.
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“Lonely,” you say, looking back to her.
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>She frowns, staring deeper into the painting.
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>Suddenly, she stands, crossing her arms. “When are you going to show me the studio?” she asks, nodding her head towards a pair of curtains.
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>You laugh.
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“When you finally show me those photos you have of me.”
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>She blushes. “You know I can’t do that! It’d be weird!”
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>The first time you talked to Sunset, you caught her taking photos of you checking your mail with a professional camera.
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>You nod.
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“Exactly. Now shush about the painting. If you want to you can just go see it. Not like it’s in an exhibit or anything.”
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>She mumbles something under her breath, glancing back to the TV one last time.
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“What was that?”
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>She shakes her head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she says before heading out.
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>The sound of the door puts a period on her visit, and you look back to the TV.
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>Soon. You’ll tell her soon.
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>2 weeks later
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>You open your eyes to darkness.
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>You take out your phone and check the time.
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>11:38 PM
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>Perfect.
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>Tonight’s the night.
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>You’re gonna tell her.
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>You get off your couch and stretch.
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>You go to your closet, picking out a black pair of sweatpants, black hoodie, and black shoes.
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>Slapping them on, you search for your balaclava.
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>Where the fuck did you put it?
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>Whatever, it doesn’t matter.
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>You grab your bag and empty it.
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>Won't be needing too many colors for this one.
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>You move to your studio, grabbing your climbing gear and throwing it in the bag.
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>You also grab all of the paints you’ll need.
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>Time to go to work.
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>You open the door and lock it behind you.
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>When you turn to leave, you see a familiar face waiting there.
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“Oh, uh, hey Sunny.”
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>”Where you going, Anon?”
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>You scratch your shoulder.
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“Work.”
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>Sunset sighs.
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>”I’m going with you.”
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“What? Why?”
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>She looks you over. “I don’t want to have to worry about you. That’s why.”
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>You grin
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“Aww, you worry about me?” you tease, poking her in the side on the way past her.
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>She jumps and groans, following you.
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>You make it to your destination with Sunset after a silent ride.
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>”Big wall.”
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>You shake your finger at her.
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“Ah ah ah, big canvas,” you correct, looking to the side of the building.
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“Here’s the fire escape, cmon,” you say, waving for her to follow you.
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>She looks around before running over
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>You both make it to the fire escape, the ladder hanging just out of reach.
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>You look around the alley.
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>Nothing. Shit.
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“Alright Sunny, I need your help here.”
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>She nods. “What do you need?”
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>You crouch down.
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“Climb up on my shoulders and see if you can’t get to that ladder.”
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>She climbs up on your shoulders and you slowly stand.
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>”Please don’t drop me.”
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“I won’t. I promise,” you say, looking up to see if she can reach.
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>Her fingers are juuuust out of reach.
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“Okay Sunny, I’m gonna do something crazy. You ready?”
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>Her eyes become saucers. “What’re you gonna do?!”
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>You jump.
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>She shrieks a little louder than you expected, but she latches onto the ladder out of instinct.
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>Her weight comes off of your shoulders as you come back down.
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“Hell yeah, Sunny. Climb up! Hurry! You were a little loud.”
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>She gives you a glare.
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>You can see it though. That little glint in her eye.
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>She loves this.
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>She climbs up the ladder, and you get a perfect view of her ass.
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>Boy, that’s a fucking feast for the eyes.
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>When she gets to the top she sends the ladder down, and you catch it.
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>Can’t make much more noise.
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>You climb the ladder and follow her all the way to the top.
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>When you get there, the roof of the building is a short, dangerous climb up.
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>You step onto the railing of the fire escape, making sure to hold the top rails tight, before turning and sliding your feet to the edge.
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>You turn the corner and look to your right.
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>There it is.
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>You take a deep breath and take the jump.
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>Sunset shrieks again, covering her mouth this time to muffle the noise.
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>Your fingers just barely manage to get enough traction on the edge.
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>From here it’s just a pull-up.
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>You make it to the roof and look around.
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>Empty. Awesome.
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>You turn around and lean over the edge.
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“Your turn Sunny.”
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>She takes a deep breath and nods.
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>She mimics your motions perfectly.
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>Finally, she looks to you at the edge.
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>”I swear to god Anon, if this was some elaborate plot to kill me I’ll…”
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>She looks down.
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>”I’ll haunt you forever.”
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>You give her a wink.
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“I’ll catch you, Sunny.”
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>She nods, taking the leap.
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>Her arms meet yours and you latch on, tugging her up with you.
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>She ends up on top of you, both of you nearly hyperventilating.
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>She looks down to you, grinning before laughing and rolling off of you.
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>She looks at you from beside you.
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>”You know you’re nuts for doing this stuff, right?”
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>You laugh, looking back at her.
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“What does that make you?”
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>She smiles and stands, pulling you up.
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“Alright, now we gotta find something to hook this stuff to,” you explain, pulling out the climbing gear.
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>”Why didn’t we use that for getting up here?”
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>You grin at her.
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“It’s more fun without it.”
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>She rolls her eyes, looking around the roof.
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>She points to an air conditioning unit right above where you’re going to paint.
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“Perfect.”
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>After getting the equipment hooked up and yourself strapped in, you nod to her.
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“Now’s the fun part.”
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>You slowly begin scaling down the side of the building, paint cans rattling in your bag.
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>The next 4 hours are an emotional rollercoaster of painting and humming to yourself.
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>Sunset waits on the roof, keeping watch and letting you do your thing.
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>Soon enough, you’re finished.
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>You scale back up to the top of the building and take your stuff off.
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>”How’d it turn out?”
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>You glance at her.
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“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever painted.”
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>She laughs. “Well now I’ve gotta see it.”
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>You laugh and pack your gear, motioning for her to follow you.
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>You both descend the fire escape and climb the down the ladder.
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>You look at the sky, tinted pink by the sunrise.
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“What time is it?”
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>”6:13.”
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“Alright, time for the big reveal.”
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>You and Sunset walk across the empty street.
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>When you turn back around, you both see it.
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>It really is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever painted.
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>”A-anon…”
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>She covers her mouth with her hands, looking back and forth between you and the painting with tear filled eyes.
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>It’s a snapshot of her from two weeks ago, looking concerned over your antics.
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>You turn to her.
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“Whatcha think? I’m gonna call it, ‘Sunny.’”
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>She jumps at you, pulling you into a long, passion filled kiss.
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>When you break it, she holds your back, staring into your eyes.
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>”I love it.”
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“I love you.”
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THE END
by Starswirl
by Starswirl
by Starswirl
by Starswirl
by Starswirl