View of a Petrol Station at Night From the Roof of a Terrace House

—Woah woah mate.
The boy by the mini fridge held onto Kerin’s feet as he attempted to pull himself up onto the roof through the skylight. Kerin’s legs swung and knocked over a bottle that poured onto the floor, over the legs of the boy helping him.
The roof slates were still warm but almost damp to the touch. The roof itself wasn’t anywhere near as steep as Kerin had expected, pulling himself along but his clothes finding resistance, stopping when the people inside started talking. His left foot still hanging in the skylight, the fall down fairly endless.
—Come on. Come on Kerin.
Kerin heard Sam’s voice and felt a hand on his ankle, looking back Sam, stood calm, with ease. —Come on.
Kerin reached out and pulled and pushed himself to the apex of the roof, grabbed hold of the shingled line at it’s highest point. Everything curved out of the house, the street below burnt briefly then was swallowed by the long line of roofs that surrounded his small light, like the noise from the party, the warmth of the roof tiles was heavy on him, the noise seemed broken. The morning was waiting on people. Long lines of cars parked here, upwards of a dozen people each. They shut up their respective homes in the morning and amass on the street to become swollen by mid afternoon. Their skin dry and pale with the smell of lotions and the older men were balding and had thin traces of facial hair and when the kids got in the back with those in their mid twenties eager to settle their limbs they tended to contort around each other and no one would be visibly sweating but everyone would be aware where their joints crossed over each other, bent at the knee and the warm moisture of the skin there. The people fell in piles, dragged and hurt each other. People swam in shallow pools cut into dirt, they stepped back tired. Something like that. People couldn’t afford this place and took their kids to the sea, to the canals where it was cooler. Something like that, conscious enough to continue, the shallow pools, sentimental limbs, the dripping of sweat, the sex, difference, that makes it palatable.
—Come on Kerin, get down.
Sam’s face was staring into the back of him. He sounded a little tired. One person sang a romantic song, karaoke inside, it was a guy, he was out of tune but there was some effort.
Kerin pulled himself toward the second skylight about four feet along, someone had opened it to look out. He pulled himself over and climbed in head first. The girl with the eye mask helped him down, he was light.
—I’m alright yeah. Kerin laughed a little.
The girl lost interest and tried to get the guy off the karaoke machine so her and her friend could go. The boy had his eyes closed and was comfortable with the chorus, swinging his body in semi-circles, while the lyrics for the verse moved across the screen.

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