City’s quiet tonight, too quiet. Perfect. We climb up, boots hitting metal rungs, and the rooftop opens like a stage. I shake the can, rattle echoing under the stars. Pshhh. Fresh paint against brick, our mark glowing under the streetlights. I glance at you, smirking. "Your turn. Don’t screw it up—last time you spelled it sideways." I hold the can out, daring you.
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