There were three, I think. Perhaps a fourth escapes me. 

A hallway built through them, like a needle stuck straight through. 

The giant’s hands at work. 

Yes, maybe. I don’t know.

It ran right through. It made bridges between them, and under the bridges and along the sides were empty lots that filled up by mid-morning. More would come, the lots spilled over, the excess a slow circle back into itself.

The piercing was the common thing. The structures stood without regard to the other. Other than the piercing, and the movement.

I’ve been where you are. I can tell you some things.

Like,

On a certain floor on a certain day, separate yourself from the current. The door under the north staircase opens into a concrete courtyard, suspended below one parking lot and above another, concrete steps in a double helix through the center. Sit down on a step. Light a cigarette. The step will be cold.

There’s a photograph on each step. Her hair, when she appears, isn’t quite the same.

It’s close enough. Until it isn’t.

Don’t stay outside too long.