Forty-one

He stood and looked out over the city from his hotel room on the forty-first floor. The lamp was on and he could see the reflection of a man standing in a room, suspended over the city lights. He wondered about that man, hanging above the city, and what was on the other side of the door in the darkness beyond. The man took a puff from his cigar, the bright orange tip glowing like a signal from a lighthouse just off the shore. He shuffled the keys in his pocket and turned to go. In the glass, the man stepped through the door and disappeared into the darkness.