— 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝗸.

| She lived on the 27th floor. No one climbed that high. No one, except him.

| I didn't know her name. Only that at 3:00 a.m., she was always there. Sitting by the window, with an empty cup and cloudy eyes.

| He watched her from the rooftop. He wasn't a spy, nor a madman. Just someone broken, searching for something that didn't hurt.

| One night, she left him a note on the railing of the building:

—If you're up there, why don't you ever come down?

| He didn't answer. He couldn't.

| Every night they grew closer. Without words. Just glances. Sometimes, a gesture. Sometimes, a withered flower left in the elevator. And although they never spoke, they understood each other.

| Until the smoke came. Until the sky closed in. And the doors stopped opening.

| She disappeared. | The 27th floor echoed. And the empty cup remained, shaking in the wind.

| Weeks passed. Maybe months.

| He left her a note again:

—I waited for you at every height. But you didn't come down… Did you leave me or did you fall?

| One morning, before dawn, the elevator started working again. Only one floor: the 27th.

| He climbed, though the air was heavy.

| And there she was. But she was smiling. Her eyes were closed, and in her hand... the withered flower, she looked so... So depressed and neglected.

| He sat down next to her. He didn't say anything. He just rested his head on her shoulder.

| And together, without moving, they watched the world turn for the last time.

| You looked like you were going to die if you didn't eat soon