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He sat on the ledge, hugging himself. The Sun was setting over the half-built skyscraper. Below him, far below, the scaffolding was just another part of New York City. He had tears in his eyes. He shook violently, and was watching the hatch on the roof. Waiting, frozen, he waited for his Juliet to come up.
The Sun was going down, and he felt a chill. His Juliet was going to come up. Soon. Now. Not now, but now. He shuddered. Please'but as the first star appeared, he remembered seeing her body. She was dead. He looked at his blue hands ' what were they doing up here? Why had he climbed up here?
Suddenly he realised how brutally he had lost it. She had died. His love. Tears streaming down his face, he remembered the moment ' the moment he had seen her. Dead. Now he was standing high up, ready to jump. Yet he still in his mind expected her to come up. Through the hatch, along the plank'she was dead! Her beautiful body was cold. He moaned and cried.
So he had left her in the coffin, and left his angry family. No note. She would know where to find him. He was going to jump. His Juliet was dead. But the full moon looked him in the eye. Romeo'Juliet'they're just names. Not destinies. That was why he didn't want to.
A buzzing in his pocket. He held his breath, and took out his phone. But it wasn't Juliet. It was Friar. It wouldn't be important. He couldn't talk now.
Maybe he should stay alive? Friar was his friend. Did he know she was dead? Surely'consolations, that would be it. He was ringing to say sorry. But Romeo wasn't going to listen. The phone went over the side.
He got off his yellow bucket ' Creak!! ' and looked down. There was no one coming. Tears streaming, he looked over the edge.

Below him, she started to climb up the skyscraper. She hated heights, and was saying to herself repeatedly: 'Don't look down!' As she put her petite feet on the rungs of the ladder, she couldn't help but look through the planks ' she was many floors up. She cried the name of her lover'once, twice, no reply. Shaking, she continued her climb. It was freezing, and she had on her small dress. Her hands were white. And she had no voice. The drugs were doing that.

Ten more minutes, he promised himself. Midnight. His favourite time. He couldn't bear any more though. The huge crushing, rib shattering pain that was killing him, would disappear then. His overwhelming sadness would win. But that was life. Ten more minutes. His teeth chattered. This was how it happened. Was the Bard right? Life without the story, he told himself, would have been different. He would never do this. He would never be there. His tears dripped to the floor. Would he have married her? The answer was clear.
Of course.

Friar rang, and rang. No answer. In desperation, he grabbed his coat, and his car keys. He sped round. Where would he be? New York was a big place. In anguish, he was yelling in his car, praying and begging, wishing. Driving in circles, round places, anywhere, wherever the wheel went. Looking. Always looking. Suddenly, his tired eyes thought he knew the silver phone lying on the tarmac. He went pale and stopped the car. Dashing out and looking up.

He could hear creaking now. Someone was coming up the boards. And they were scared of heights. And they were light. And he knew the voice, he loved the voice. Turning round, he saw Juliet. She looked ghostly pale and cold, but it was Juliet.
She said his name.
He wanted to rush to her. But something stopped him. This curse, this retelling of his life by a story, he felt it now. He should be dead. He wasn't following the rules. But maybe it was time to forget the Bard. To bring himself to the stage. He was him. It was just a story, after all!

She saw something change in him. In one minute on the roof. In the cold, black night, she saw more happiness than she had ever seen. She approached him. She smiled, still crying. For no reason now. It would all be okay-
She was coming towards him. He could do it. He could greet a ghost. But, he told himself, no. She was dead. What happened in the story?-
He looked scared again. Gasping, she went to hug him. He was backing away, shaking his head. Welling up. Muttering something about how it must be.
Something about how it ends.
'No!'
The Friar's brow creased and his tears welled up. He fell back against the car in shock-
She grabbed the air where he had been '
And it was midnight. The moon shone over their little area, transfixed in space-
It was quiet in New York.
With a last goodbye to life, the lovers reunited.

A moment later, when the moonlight fell on the tragic roof, it was empty bar an upturned yellow bucket.