In “The City,” Jennifer Tumilty crafts a poignant story of urban loneliness and unexpected human connection. A young woman’s solitary rooftop ritual is interrupted by a teenage stranger, sparking a fleeting but meaningful exchange that lingers long after their encounter ends—a quiet meditation on isolation, abandoned dreams, and the moments that briefly bridge the distance between us.
Ever since I moved here, I’ve come up to this rooftop. Always with a plain turkey sandwich and Diet Coke. I’d like to say I had more fun plans ahead, but I haven’t been able to make any friends, so it’s always just me. As I look down at the bustling city, I remember expecting there to be more going on and was excited at the prospect of something new each day. I wasn’t prepared for the feeling of sameness.
The lights are always vibrant, changing from different shades of yellow, blue, red and purple. The sidewalk is always crowded with no room for movement other than the same path as everyone else. Most people have the matching “I need to get there.” “Move.” Hustle-bustle lifestyle that contrasts my small hometown.
I thought when I moved to the city, there would be more than this. That my life would be like the movies where you have a group of friends, go to parties each weekend and try to balance your social life with building a career.
Instead, I’m 26 and completely alone. The last party I went to was my niece’s 9th birthday, and that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when it came to a better social life. School taught me how to read, write, learn about genetics and solve math equations, but they don’t teach you to socialize. Not truly. Being around people does not guarantee socialization. You could be in the biggest city of the world and be alone.
Just as I am.
I bite down on the plain turkey sandwich and feel the familiar flavour. The white bread saves the sandwich, while the diet Coke relieves my dry mouth.
My body jumps as there is a giant slam of the door behind me and my heart rapidly beats as my eyes turn to the person who hasn’t noticed me yet. I can’t see a face, just the back of their body as it moves up and down.
“Are you okay?” My voice barely goes above a whisper, but they still hear it as they jump and turn around, “Sorry.”
“I-I didn’t know anyone was up here.”
This guy was just a kid. Although tall, they couldn’t be more than 15. And the way their eyes dart around the roof makes me question the quick dash up, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just… there were these guys. I was just trying to get away.”
I nod but don’t have anything to say as the kid stands there awkwardly. He looks around again and puts his ear to the door. I watched as he whispered something to himself and walked over to me, “You want the other half?” I hold up the sad sandwich to him.
“My mom told me not to accept things from strangers.”
“She probably also said never to talk to strangers.” When the boy doesn’t reply, I turn my head and go back to eating my sandwich and watching the streets below. The boy sits next to me and I frown at him.
“Can I wait here for a bit? Just until the guys go.”
“Sure, I guess.”
It stayed quiet between the two of us. When the boy pulled his homework out of his backpack, I knew he was going to stay for longer than just a few minutes. I could’ve left once he did that, but I didn’t want whoever he was running from to come up. So, I continued on like he wasn’t here.
It wasn’t until I noticed the book the boy had in his bag until I spoke up again: “Romeo and Juliet?” When the boy looked at me with a frown, I pointed at the book.
“Oh, yeah. I gotta read it for English class. I don’t really get the point of it though.”
“It’s a classic.”
“I don’t really know why. I already know the ending.”
“It’s not always about the ending.”
The boy was quiet for a few minutes as he looked down at the story, “I guess you had to read it too?”
“Yeah. And I was in my school’s play of it.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Cause I liked acting.”
“Are you an actor?”
“No,” I laughed, “I gave up that dream a long time ago.”
“Why? Did you not like it anymore?”
“No… Just life, I guess. It wasn’t practical so I went to school instead.”
“You can go to school for acting.”
“Not the type of school I went to.”
The boy frowned at my answer: “So you got a new dream?”
“Not exactly.”
The boy stared down at his copy of Romeo and Juliet. His brows furrowed and he shifted
his weight from side to side, “Well, I’m gonna be an astronaut, so I don’t need stuff like this book.”
“That’s your dream?”
“Mhm,” The boy nodded, “I am already working on it. By the time I’m 30, I’ll be in space. There’s nothing that’s gonna stop me from it.” The boy pulled out his notebook where there were detailed notes, drawings of his own spacesuit and even pictures of other astronauts. I turned to look at his backpack which had a little rocketship pin on it, “My parents told me to think of other options too, but I don’t see there being anything else that makes me happy.”
“What are you working on to get that dream?”
“Went to space camp since I was young. My parents got me a bunch of books that should help me. I’m a straight A student… except in English.”
I didn’t know what to say to the boy. I didn’t need to say anything more since he occupied the silence talking passionately about his dream. So much so, the sun began to set and the city grew even louder as the late night party began.
“Crap! I need to go home before my mom worries.”
“You think the guys are gone now?”
“Yeah,” He shrugged, “they gotta get home before their parents get mad too. Thanks for letting me stay.”
I barely had time to tell him it was no problem before he grabbed his bag and ran off. I didn’t even know the boy’s name, but I couldn’t shake the heaviness in my chest. My eyes went back to the lively city; now shining bright in the dark with the music increasing and voices booming.
“Dammit,” I muttered when I saw the boy’s copy of Romeo and Juliet. The page opened to the very end. I knew I had to go to sleep and start the next day, so I closed the book, got up, and left my spot on the roof overlooking the city.
The copy of Romeo and Juliet stayed on the ledge.