Too impatient for the lift, he takes the stairs, the tail of his coat nips his heals as he swings his body around each corner railing between floors.
In his right hand he clasps a single flower. In his mind he clasps an image of her face. Honey eyes. Plush cheeks. Strawberry lips. He will tell her he loves her.
The rooftop door springs open and there she is staring back at him, waiting for him. Honey eyes. Plush cheeks. Strawberry lips.
“I love you,” he tells her as he places the single flower on the plaque beneath her photo.