The roof is a ballroom; the raindrops are glints of light from a spinning disco ball; the moans from the street below are table conversation. She is at a wedding, her best friend's wedding, the wedding, the best night of her life.
She spins and laughs and raises an empty glass in toast. She holds an imaginary microphone and nails the speech she was too nervous to deliver in real life. She hugs the air; she kisses the horizon.
Later, out of her reverie, she will hang the soaking dress out on the fire escape to dry, and cry quietly.