Zayla finished off the window with a final swipe of the squeegee. Three storeys above the ground, her gaze lingered on the open space behind her before falling reluctantly on the next window to wash. With a sigh, she pushed the lever that slid her platform over to that window. As her hands worked, her mind wandered. With so much open air around her, it seemed almost obscene that she be trapped within the bounds of this platform. Window half soapy, half wiped clean, Zayla stopped. She wanted out. She wanted freedom.
She pushed the lever, letting the mechanical arm lift her to the roof. Her mind wandered. Once she reached the roof, she would step off the platform, leave the truck for someone else, and disappear into the street.
When she returned from her thoughts, she saw she'd overshot the roof and was still rising. She'd thought the cherry picker topped out at four storeys, but she was still rising. The roof was already three storeys below. Was she even attached to the ground any more?
She didn't know. A grin blossomed on her face, and she kept her hand on the lever. She was going to find out.