Excerpt:

Sam’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell. He counted the floors out of habit as he passed each landing, counted the steps as he climbed. Two-hundred-seventy-two stairs later, he stood before a grimy metal door. He dug in a pocket of his backpack and pulled out a single key and shoved it into the lock on the door.
A gust of freezing November wind howled into the stairwell, droplets of cold rain struck Sam’s face and his hair flew about his head, sticking to his forehead. He pulled his coat around him tightly and walked onto the roof of the law firm building he used to clean at night. He had made a copy of the roof key before he quit, just in case.
Gravel crunched under his feet as he walked to the edge of the roof, shoulders hunched against the cold wind and rain. He slowly placed one foot on the ledge and shakily stood, planting both feet firmly on the crumbling concrete. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind howl and moan through the city skyscrapers above and below him. A chunk of hair found its way into his mouth, and he spit it out, annoyed that the wind was ruining the “mood” he always tried to feel. Sam opened his eyes and looked straight ahead at the building next door. The blinds were pulled on the window that was level with the roof.
He wondered what the person who occupied that office would do if they looked out their window to find a twenty-something-year-old kid standing on the ledge of the Harris & Jurgen Law Firm building? He laughed to himself, then frowned as his pocket began to buzz and ring.
Sam pulled his cell phone out and flipped it open without checking the number. “Hello,” he said, straining his ears to filter out the wind, “this is Sam Jurgen.”
“Sam?” the voice on the other end said, crackling from the wind and poor reception.
Sam cleared his throat. “Hi Ray. What’s going on?”
“Did you feed Calvin?” her tinny voice barely came through. “And turn off the coffee maker?”
“No and yes,” Sam said, peering down to the alley below. A scrawny black cat crawled out of a dumpster. Sam grimaced.
He heard Ray sigh on the other end. “If you get home before me, can you feed him? I don’t know why he likes you more than me; you never feed him.”
“Yeah,” Sam replied absently, “it must be the wit and charisma seeping from every pore.”
Ray laughed gently. “Are you okay, Sam?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You looked upset this morning.”
“Ah, you know,” Sam said casually, “rough night last night. Hangover. The usual.”
Ray snorted. “Right. Take it easy, Sammy.”
“Can do,” Sam said. “Bye, Ray.”
“Bye Sam,” Ray said, and he heard a click as she hung up.
Sam shoved the phone back into his pocket and looked down again. He swung his hands back and forth, feeling his body sway with the wind. He lifted himself up on the balls of his feet and mentally willed himself forward. He leaned forward, but couldn’t bring his feet to step forward off the roof. Sam growled in frustration and clenched his hands into fists.
The phone in his pocket started vibrating again, and Sam pulled it out and launched it as hard as he could off the roof, screaming furiously. It shattered against the tan stone of the building across from him. The cat in the alley below yowled at him. Sam glared at it and jumped backwards onto the roof, angrily kicking gravel over the ledge.
“Fuck!” he snarled at no one. He stalked back to the door and shoved the key into the lock, letting himself back into the stairwell. He passive-aggressively pounded down the sixteen flights of stairs and out to the sidewalk below.