This story doesn't really seem to have much of a purpose, aside from helping me release my artistic angst. I don't even know what it's about, only that I wrote it...oh well. It takes place at the loft, by the way, and as for timeline...maybe around March? Who cares, tis RENT.

"Honey? You okay?"

Maureen jumped, her cigarette nearly slipping through her fingers. She caught it at the last second and promptly dropped it again as the tip burned her knuckle. It fluttered over the edge of the roof, tiny orange glow swallowed up in the New York twilight.

"Jesus, give a girl a little warning," she mumbled, sucking on her knuckle and steadying herself where she perched on the ledge that ran the perimeter on the roof. Mimi smiled and slid onto the ledge beside Maureen.

"Sorry. You're not usually so jumpy, though."

"Yeah, well, smoking makes me paranoid."

"Why do you do it, then?"

"Because it makes me paranoid," Maureen said, winking at her. Mimi shook her head and ran a hand through her hair.

"I have this weird feeling that no matter what I do, I am never going to understand you."

"Join the club," Maureen said with a shrug. She dug in her coat pocket and extracted a pack of cigarettes, shaking out two. One she handed to Mimi, the other she stuck between her lips and reached back for a lighter. Mimi twiddled the cigarette between her fingers and cocked her head, hair falling across her neck and face. Maureen found the lighter, clicked it until a flame jumped up, and lit her cigarette, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply as the tip caught and burned a bright red.

"What?" she asked, catching Mimi's gaze as she finished the drag. Smoke spilled from her mouth as she spoke, seeping into her clothes and fogging the air. Mimi sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Gimme," she said, plucking the lighter from Maureen's hands and holding it to her own cigarette. For a little while, the two of them sat silently, smoking and gazing at the maze of buildings that stretched out before them. A few blocks away, someone screamed and cursed in Spanish; the words hung in the air like so much cigarette smoke until they were blown away by the wind.

"You sleeping here tonight?" Mimi asked suddenly, winding a curl around her finger. Maureen sighed and exhaled, mouthing like a fish as she tried unsuccessfully to produce smoke rings.

"Nah, you guys deserve a break from me. Think I'll go crash with Collins and Angel tonight…they're back home, right?"

"Uh huh, just moved again from that tent city at the bridge," Mimi said. "Angel's landlord came around evicting, went a little crazy with the locks and shit. They had to wait a few days before breaking back in."

"Such is the life of squatters."

"So true."

"Anyway, I'll probably sneak in while they're fucking…won't be fun to hang around till they're done, but at least they won't notice," Maureen said, grinning. Mimi giggled and threw the butt of her cigarette off the roof, watching it spiral down until it hit the sidewalk and sprayed sparks before going out. Maureen wordlessly handed her another, which she accepted, eyebrows raised.

"Generous."

"I don't smoke, what do I need cigarettes for?" Maureen said, shoving the pack back into her coat pocket. Mimi shook her head and reached for the lighter.

"How long before Joanne extends the flag of peace, d'you think?" she asked, cigarette gripped between her teeth like a gangster from an old movie. Maureen groaned and leaned her head back against a cluster of pipes.

"I have no fucking idea anymore, she's completely unpredictable these days. Sometimes she'll be out looking for me in a couple hours, sometimes I'll have to get down on my fucking hands and knees after a week. Goddamn crazy, I swear to god, she has no logic whatsoever."

"What'd you do this time?"

"Want me to show you?" Maureen asked dryly, tossing her hair back. Mimi smiled and shook her head again.

"No thanks. Mark might like a replay, though."

"Nice, real nice," Maureen sighed, and turned back towards the rooftops. Night was coming in pretty fast, and the faint orange light of the homeless' fires could be seen creeping up the walls of buildings and flickering on roofs. Mimi blew smoke towards her friend, shaking off grey ash.

"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I'm so fucking broke I can't spare a cent on mental erotica," she said with a straight face. Maureen glanced back towards her and stuck out her tongue.

"Yeah, I can understand why you wouldn't want to know what I'm imagining you and Roger doing together…but tell me, just how wide can you spread your legs in real life? Y'know, for future reference?"

"Fuck you," Mimi giggled, throwing her now dead butt with deadly aim.

"Hey, I like to be accurate," protested Maureen, brushing the spent cigarette off her pants. "You'd be surprised at how many questions I had to ask your mother before I could get a good mental picture—I've got notes if you want them GET OFF ME!" she shrieked, thrashing defensively as Mimi darted forward and tried to dig her fingers into Maureen's ribs. They wrestled for a moment, oblivious to the multiple-story drop that awaited them if they slipped off the roof. Finally, Maureen managed to push her away; she jumped from the ledge and made a cross with her index fingers to ward off Mimi, who was doubled over with laughter. "Back, foul demon."

"Takes one to know one," Mimi gasped, falling back to the edge and sliding down to sit on the roof, her back against the rough cement wall. Maureen joined her, brushing back hair and smoothing her jacket. The two collected themselves, though they had to fight the occasional swell of giggles.

When they were laughed out, the silence between them hung intact for only a moment or two. The sounds of New York suddenly became louder, every honk and shout trying to outdo each other. The noise filled the space where words might be as they both thought, staring into the ever-growing darkness.

"You think he's okay?" Maureen said finally. Mimi shrugged, absently braiding a strand of hair.

"Depends. Who?"

"Mark. Roger. Collins, Angel, Joanne, everyone," Maureen said, her voice soft. Mimi frowned.

"Joanne's not a h—"

"I know that, I just—shit, Mimi, you know what I mean."

"Yeah…but I don't. Think they're okay."

Honks. Clatter of a fire escape. Wait the fuck up! Barking dog.

"Me neither."

"What do we do about it?"

"What can we do? If they're not okay, we sure as fuck aren't."

More honking. Sirens. Drunken laughter. A child screaming.

"True. Veeery true."

"C'mon, let's go steal some of Roger's pot."

"Mark can roll, let's steal some of his."

"Both."

"Maybe. Thought you were sleeping at Angel and Collins'."

"I am. Don't have to be sober to get there," Maureen said, struggling to her feet. Mimi sighed, then raised her eyebrows and nodded. She accepted Maureen's hand and stood, brushing off her ass. They started towards the stairs, dodging pipes and a few weathered chairs that had been carried up years ago. Down in the streets, the voices of two women shouting intensified as the accusations flew back and forth. Couples laughed loudly and cars screeched along the asphalt as they worked to avoid pedestrians and taxis. Somewhere far away, another siren wailed as it sped away to help one of the many who could not help themselves.