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Droplets of Neon
From the moment that daybreak became an impending event, and our eyes and bodies were heavy, the music would become slower and the paces, at which we swam, slowed. Sometimes we would just float, our upper bodies reaching out of the surface. Sometimes we would talk, in the water. Sometimes they would listen to the sounds of my keyboard, there in the still water of the rooftop pool, the star-dotted night sky's reflection still sprawled out across the water's surface. Sometimes, they would swim to the edge of the pool at my feet, and listen to the sounds being dispersed into the atmosphere. Out into the night sky, slightly aglow, but only on the edge of the horizon, reminiscent of daybreak. When they began to rest their heads on the edge, and their eyes began to close slowly, I would suggest that we all go home. Sometimes they would agree, and sometimes they would gently detest, until they couldn't deny it any longer. We would return to the stairwell, and make our way up, floor after floor, seeing the rooftop pool further and further beneath us, through the windows. The cityscape was a face, displayed beneath us, looking up. Further down than our beloved rooftop pool.
We would return to the air conditioned apartment, where the air conditioner was turned down just a bit too low. We would sluggishly make our way to the futon, and stare at the glowing screen of the flat screen plasma TV, with half opened eyes. We would fall asleep, covered in blankets, with pillows that would often go unused, as we preferred each other's shoulders.
We would slip into a silent state of drifting. Outside, and far below, the city would still move. The train would zip by on the monorail, under the gentle azure sky, where the clouds would peacefully drift by. The stillness of the rooftop pool matched the stillness of our sleeping bodies. The curtains of the window are still open. Looking out, the city is awake and alive, covered in daylight. In the offices, under the fluorescent lights, the men and women in their suits write and type at their desks. In the shipyard, the workers are laborious and productive. Looking up from their tasks, with a brow shiny with perspiration, they'll smile at one another.
The edges of the city turn into sandy stretches, where the seawater washes up, slowly. Like many other days, it's beautiful and clear. But, when the sky turns gray and the rain starts to fall, quietness takes the beach. Today... the white sands are warm with the sun's gleam. The airways above fill with the sound of passing airplanes. the passengers come in many shapes and sizes, colors and personalities. When the planes touch down again at the airports, they'll disperse into the world...
Even when the twilight slips over the town, and a return home is next on the agenda, the city still bustles and sparkles. When night descends, the stars return, a frozen shower of glistening points in the otherwise black canvas of the sky.
On the lazy, nighttime beach, some are asleep on the swings, on the porches of their beachfront villas. Some gather around glowing fires, poking it with sticks, and talking quietly. On the expansive expressway, some are driving in their cars, a big, bustling movement of people, more connected with one another then they might think, sitting in their cars, alone. The parties and gatherings on the rooftops have significantly calmed down, or slowly came to and end. The restaurants have closed, the chairs rest on the tables, as the few waiters or waitresses still inside clean up before going home.
Only when night has drifted further and further upon the city, only when it is truly night once again, do I open my eyes to see that two of the others are already awake, smiling at my drowsy face. Soon, we're all ready... and we make our way out into the quiet hallways, where the windows stretch all across the wall, with a stunning view of the city below. We make our way to the stairwell once again, where we rush downward, step by step, all the way down to the rooftop. Finally, with our bare feet on the rooftop, we run to the poolside, and leap in, as the tranquility of the water's surface collapses into a splash of movement that scatters into countless beads of water. Floating about, under the surface of the pool, and swimming around in our secret, submerged place, we're filled with excitement, until we all slowly stop, looking upward... through the wavy, but calm surface of the water, a blurry representation of the night sky still reaches our eyes, as we float in the water, in silence... when we return to the surface, we talk quietly, and even whisper. The hours of the night slip away, faster than we thought. Ever single night, they slip away faster than we thought.
Somewhere right now, somewhere far away from us, and far beneath us, there are glowing, neon boulevards, where the kids snuck out of the house, through their windows, for the sole thrill of meeting up with their friends when they should be in bed. The walk through the glowing lanes, flooded with the city lights, which press against the walls and spill out into the streets.
Extending out of the pools of neon, and reaching up toward the star-filled sky, a quiet pool is built into the rooftop. This is where we gather. Where we live... only at night. Soon, we'll climb the stairwell once again, and the city will awaken with the sun but we'll be asleep in the air conditioned apartment.
When we return to our place, our rooftop pool in our point in the city, we'll swim around in the water, where the neon light flows in, and mixes with the reflection of the night sky on the water. We'll climb out of the surface when it's time, with droplets of neon streaming down our skin. Droplets of neon, mixed with the reflection of the starry sky, and moonlight.

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