Above, the city’s glow casts patterns on my rooftop haven. Distant echoes of laughter and life mix with the rhythmic clinking from my flask. In my fingers, a single gold coin twirls, catching the neon flickers. Its gleam carries an ancient secret, hinting at a hidden pot, safely tucked away within the aisles of the store.
A soft rain starts, and in its mist, a rainbow emerges, its colours stark against the grey sky. This spectral bridge, out of place amidst steel and stone, reminds me of emerald isles.
Come dawn, traces of my nightly journey remain: an emptied flask, a trail of golden coins, and whispers of a myth. As the world stirs, only a few eyes might catch the hint, piecing together the story of the city’s very own leprechaun and his treasure buried in the heart of Walgreens.
