NOAH
The rooftop restaurant was the kind of place that made you acutely aware of how much money you didn't have.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, refracting light across polished marble floors. A string quartet played something classical and elegant in the corner, the music floating through the air like expensive perfume.
Servers in crisp white uniforms moved through the crowd with practiced grace, balancing champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
And everywhere, everywhere, there were people who belonged here.
Men in tuxedos worth thousands of dollars. Women in gowns that shimmered under the lights. Politicians with practiced smiles. Investors with calculating eyes. Press photographers stationed strategically, capturing every "candid" moment of power and influence.
