Colleen's Story Part 1 Intro

This is part of the beginning so far but I have more that follows already:

My name is Colleen Kix. Lapine resident of Mipple City. The day is a vibrant shining monument of modern steel and comcrete. It is cityscape of towering sharp chromatic skyscrapers and black roads thick with traffic unable to get out of its own way each day. Men and women of power making up the world Corporate CEOs, Politicians, bureaucrats, and other influencial agencies making decisions for lives of the weary, pedestrians hitting the pavement, drivers stick in traffic, bystanders waiting for the next bus and available taxi service. Each of them unwitting pawns grinding away. No prosperity. No way out when you do everything to follow the rules. Five hundred thousand residents unable to comprehend external devaluing from the view high above in large windows, where there is no pity or remorse for he very ones who wear themselves thin for their weekly pittence allowing one more week of struggling desperate faux hope.

Back alleys of the underworld are not to be mistaken for a more moral grounding. It isn't. It is the same with a different shade covering its world. Mobsters, pimps, brothel madams, drug runners, murderers and other highstake criminals rule from the shadow, sometimes in plain sight. It is a world where deals are made on sticky hotel beds  drenched in sweat or from the hot barrel of a smoking gun. It has its own laws, maleable ones unwritten held by its rulers in a life one can never let down any guard.

Colleen began whispering a little more:

I stood barefooted against studded rubber flooring with enough grip to prevent a greased banana peel from slipping off the edge. Beneath the floor, strong metal plating and frame helping me not feel like I were forty five flight plunge, forty six if you count the lobby floor. Despite what I have to say about the city from this perspective, it is not enjoyable. Infact I'd rather not take a single step onto its matted surface. Sure it has proven itself intact for almost just shy of three years. Lingering consciousness reminds me that inevitably gravity cannot be refused.

I do though for the benefit of the only other living body sharing the same living space. Not boygriend. Not a husband. Not a roommate, no thanks. My discomfort is for the benefit of a cactus tall enough to reach my hips. It is the only reason  reason I ever took any first steps into where only flying creatures have any business being.

Why does my story begin there, one may wonder. One reason being, it was this first particularly night I felt able to lean against the fencing. My hold on the railing were sweaty vices against the metal, forcing myself to look across the open space below. Toes curled into the ball of my foot. An inhale of breath filling my lungs till pressing hard against the ribs beneath my breasts. God, how I hated this is what it took to take in a view that I never could handle like this for no more than a few minutes. I loved the view but hated what it took to force limited time to enjoy it beneath the kind of tension hearts pounded against defiantly, yelling at me to get back inside. It took one full before even trusting it with my cactus, who I envied at that moment for not have neural receptors to its environment. All my life has been about keeping in control of my own self. All my life it had been all I known. I wasn't looking to acclimate to heights, I just wanted a glance. The toes on my foot crunched tighter together when memory of a phone slipping away from my hand. Before the thought completed itself I was pushing myself backwards into a stumble backwards. Reflexes put my legs in a wide stance once far back as the cactus. I placed my palm over my left breast, heart beat pounding away as if right under be tank top. 

This attempt was significant. I managed six minutes and twenty seconds this time, my highest record up till that night. Logic told me to get an expensive drone next time for the view. Something I'd considered before moving and wouldn't mind one for photography reasons. Tonight would have been a photo capture worthy of putting on an expensive canvas for my bedroom. From my balcony this night was a beautiful long low to the sky behind all the city buildings clear without humidity or dampness blurring what was a direct line of light purple transitioning the day into darkness which I awaited like many nights. It wasn't the first time but it captures my attention more for some reason undefined.

Some have explained it away to me in a few different ways. Some nonsense that it was an Omen. Others suggesting some sort of cliche about risk. Some claiming it was some sort of self manifesting. One of my personal irritations in life. Those looking for meaning that isn't there. It really wasn't that deep. Subjecting my nerves for six minutes was simply to get a view. Not to hang out there on a platform of potential death like my neighbors do regularly on theirs.