"What d'you think about, up here?"
The pinpricks of bright white light blazed down from their stationary position in the sky, peeking through holes in a dark blanket of ink. They shined down on the roof tops of the sprawling metropolis below as the people inhabiting the city snored and slept the night away. Not these two, though. Two boys, still wide awake after the long day, sat on the roof of a tall brick building. The taller one looked down upon New York as if he owned it, or at least had the right to. With his light brown eyes and blue cap stuck jauntily on his chocolate brown hair, he struck a cocky figure perched on the roof. The other, with his plaid shirt and backwards cap, looked somewhat admiringly at his friend as he stood there, leaning on his wooden crutch.
"I mean, there ain't much tah look at besides the stars an' the sky, is there?" Crutchie continued, and Jack threw a glance to him with a small smile. Jack looked up into the nightly blanket, shrugging. "There's lotsa things if you jus' look, kid. See, the stars, they ain't jus' stars! They could be eyes of some giant hungry monster, all ready to come down an' gobble up some unsuspectin' kid who thinks the stars are jus' stars.
"Like me?" Crutchie smiled half-heartedly. Jack hit him on the shoulder playfully. "Yeah. Like you. See, some folks might get mad if you jus' take things for what they look like."
"An' you don't?" Crutchie challenged Jack. Jack shook his head, leaning onto the cold metal railing. "Tell that tah all the girls ya met an' then left 'em jus' for another—"
"Hey, hey! That was different, wasn't it?" Jack interrupted him, affronted. Crutchie laughed. "Yeah. Sure it was."
"Go on down," Jack looked at him. "You need some rest."
"I told you, Jack, I wanta beat the other fellas to the streets!" Crutchie limped over. He peered over Jack's shoulder, and caught sight of some paper gently fluttering in the breeze. Before Jack could know what he was doing, Crutchie had limped over and grabbed the paper.
"Hey, what'cha doin'?" Jack walked up behind him, and took the paper out of his hands. "That's mine. Don't touch."
Crutchie reached for it again, but Jack held it higher away from him, surveying the charcoal drawing of the Manhattan skyline, not unlike tonight's silhouette of the city. Crutchie jumped up for the paper determinedly, and fell down to the roof. Jack glanced to him, putting the drawing down. He extended a hand to Crutchie, who popped up again. Crutchie bent down to retrieve his crutch, and attempted to sneak another look at the drawing. "That's pretty good, Jack," he stated, impressed. "That is yours, ain't it?"
"Course it is," Jack scowled. "Now listen 'ere, I don't want you tell the other boys 'bout this. They might…might think I'm a pansy or somethin'."
Crutchie nodded. "Course I won't, Jack."