The luminescence of Downtown Paradise poured through the penthouse windows in long, silken veils of amber, pearl, and platinum, bathing the city beyond the glass in such resplendent glamour that one could almost forgive it for being rotten.
Almost.
Paradise glittered with the obscene confidence of a lie that had been told for so long it had acquired architectural permits. Towers rose from the dark earth like spears of gold while skybridges burned with soft white light.
The avenues below shone beneath streams of traffic, every vehicle polished into a moving fragment of wealth, every billboard selling fragrance, banking, beauty, eternity, and other things mankind had no business promising while still failing at basic decency. From this height, the city looked peaceful. Safe and divinely curated.
A metropolis dressed for a wedding while hiding the corpse behind the altar.
Roxanne knew better.
