Through the bones overhead, the scaffolding clung to the sides of the house. Three stories up, plus a roof. I look at the plywood, the sky, behind me, and then, fuck it, why not.
Dropped my purse and started climbing. Tore my wrist against unsanded edges, edged along the beam that sloped upwards, and held the bones overhead until I broke through. By the time I reached the top, the boys realized what I had done, and gathered to watch. My brother followed suit, pulled himself up using almost purely upper body strength, and we sat together at the peak, watching the little lights that denote life move around the city.
"I told you I'd get you on a roof," I said, and we smiled, my brother and I.