Miller adjusted his hard hat, narrowing his eyes against the darkening sky. A gust of wind swept the rooftop where he stood, carrying with it a chill that bit into the late afternoon air. Tom, leaning against the tool chest, watched him.

“You sure about this, Miller?” Tom asked, voice steady like the weight of his gaze. His hands rested casually on the chest, the only sign of unease the tapping of his fingers.

Miller grunted, checking the completeness of the safety harness. He pulled at the straps, firm and unyielding. “It’s just another gig, Tom. Seen worse.”

“Yeah? And how many didn’t walk away from the edge?” Tom’s eyes flickered toward the abyss of scaffolding beyond them. “You trust all that gear?”

Miller paused, eyes trailing over the harness. A thing of stitched nylon and metal buckles, promising protection in a world that gave none. “Trust ain’t got much to do with it,” he said, looping the harness over his shoulders.

Tom chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Hell of a motto.”

Silence settled between them, as they listened to the loose flaps of tarpaulin fluttering above. Miller focused on the final fastening, effectively cutting off any escape should the gut-twisting moment of descent come. The horizon glowed an austere orange, the sun lingering at half-mast.

“You ever think about not coming back, Miller?”

Miller stopped, eyes fixed on the skyline. “Too often,” he finally admitted. His voice was a drawl, clipped but lingering with fatigue. “But not today. At least, not if I can help it.”

Tom nodded, moving away from the chest and closer to Miller. “Then maybe I’ll see you on the ground.”

“Maybe,” said Miller. He put the final snap into place and stood tall in the fading light. There was a fragility to the moment, a sense of something just out of sight. Maybe it was the way Tom’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes; maybe it was the way the harness seemed to weigh heavier than it should.

“Good luck,” Tom offered, his words barely above the whisper of the wind. Miller nodded, the only response he could muster.

The air felt different now, charged but silent. With a nod to the abyss, Miller took the step forward, his body leaned into the trust that the harness demanded but had yet to earn.

From below, there was nothing but the cry of the wind, carrying with it the echo of laughter like ghostly fingers over bare skin.

“See you,” Miller said, voice caught in the void. His fingers found the line, releasing him into the space where gravity was both enemy and friend.

Behind him, Tom watched, the rooftop emptier with each passing second. “Maybe,” he whispered, tone thick with meanings left unspoken.

In that pause, the world ceased its rotation, caught in a web of uncertainty woven by men standing at the edge. Tom looked at the harness and wondered about the threads keeping Miller tethered to this world of concrete and smoke.

And as the specter of the sun dipped below the horizon, shadows grew long and mysterious, draping the rooftop in secrets. Whether tethered or free-falling, Miller’s fate was a question left to linger in the minds of those brave enough to ask.

Above, the stars began to punctuate the night, indifferent to the lives unraveled beneath their gaze.