stories

lunch
atop a
skyscraper
a goliath of steel and glass. Standing
strong on an impenetrable base of
concrete and the American spirit.
Looking down, Dale saw the
bustling metropolis buzzing by
him. People—like ants—scurrying
to keep up with the pace of the
world. Dale took a bite of his ham
sandwich, relishing this moment,
knowing that this place was a
symbol of the America he had
always known.
You could say One World Trade
is a mathematician’s dream.
Standing in all its octagonal
glory. Magnificent glass triangles
perfectly aligning and sending
your eye up and away to the sky.
Jutting out from the concrete is
subway nearby. Like the spine of
an ancient creature coming up for
air and diving back down under
the tallest building in America.
To the people below, One World
Trade is a world of glass. Gazing up
as it
gleams and glistens. Catching the
light from wherever it may shine.
This building had a mind all its own.
Transforming itself into whatever
it likes. One day a warship with
its spire like a ship’s mast sailing
majestically through the sky. The
next, masquerading around as a
twin of the buildings nearby. Today,
Dale was perched on an invisible
giant that had taken on the look of
clouds.
lunch
atop a
skyscraper