i was an assassin in some kind of steampunk-esque anachronistic world, and i knew my rival assassin and target to be a being composed of pure shadow. i and my faithful shadow+metal dog followed my rival up onto the flat concrete rooftop of a building neighboring a fancy rich party. the sounds of laughter and golden gaiety washed over us and the night sky blanketed the scene as we stood there frozen, watching each other, caught still in the moment. my breath hung in my throat and my heart tripped and plummeted and soared. i sat on the rusted crates next to the train track, watching dusty graffiti and posters whisk by. i was on the phone with my boss, who felt more like a father figure. "don't get yourself hurt," he said, very tenderly. "i know," i said.