Ryder cracked a rare smile, grabbed his lunchbox, and strolled over to one side of the rooftop.
The spot he chose was by the railing, waist-high with a width of about twelve inches.
It was topped with smooth, glossy glass bricks.
Planting himself on the railing, Ryder set the lunchbox on it and began to methodically open it, layer by layer.
Agnes, however, looked a bit pale. She walked over to him. “Come on, get down from there. It’s so dangerous.”
Even sitting cross-legged on the ground would have been fine with her, but seeing Ryder perched on the edge was downright terrifying.
Ryder replied, “Eating up here feels different, you know? Don’t believe me? Try it for yourself.”
Agnes wasn’t particularly afraid of heights.
But even a quick glance down from the rooftop was enough to stir a sense of vertigo within her.
It was a primal kind of fear.
As Agnes cautiously peered over the edge, Ryder suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her down beside him.
Agnes yelped, startled by the sudden move.
“Ryder, what are you doing?”
He shot back with a teasing grin, “Scaredy-cat.”
Agnes glared at him. But, once seated, she had to admit it felt different.
Caught between being grounded and suspended, the feeling was indescribable; it was akin to standing on the edge of a cliff and simultaneously sitting amidst the clouds, an unsettling blend of tension and exhilaration.
Ryder handed her a pair of chopsticks, “Let’s eat.”
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