Sunday's Whirligig - Whirligig 178

This time I've decided to post a fictional short story I composed used the 12 words given by Magical Mystical Teacher for the blog hop Sunday's Whirligig - Whirligig 178 to which I am linking. We are given some variety as to our style of writing and how many of the given words, as well as form of the words we choose to include.

THIS WEEK'S WORDS come from "Where did the handsome beloved go?" by Rumi: handsome, midnight, garden, rooftop, overflow, cypress, trembles, rose, search, mine, water, tell 

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She trembled and hoped that the tall, handsome man exploring the gardens on the rooftop with her didn’t notice her nervousness. She faced what many would find terrifying experiences in her line of work as an emergency room nurse, but nevertheless, she had her own demons that surfaced from time to time.

He had invited her to go there after the midnight show. As they had stepped into the the three-sided glass elevator  with several others. She was glad that their bodies obscured her view of the ground as they went higher and higher. 

When they stepped out they were met by the sound of water bubbling and overflowing from the top of a large basalt column fountain and with the intoxicating smell of roses in bloom. He put his arm around her shoulders, gently keeping her a safe distance from the edge of the rooftop.

Some felt if she were to face her fears head on, she could overcome the painful memories of the past. He hoped that her accepting his suggestion was a step in the right direction. Time would tell.

Taking a deep breath, she gradually relaxed as they searched the skyline for well known landmarks. It wasn’t until the sound of an approaching ambulance came nearer and stopped below, that she ventured to look down past the Mediterranean cypress trees, looking like small toothpicks from such a height, to see people gathering around a body on the sidewalk.

The two of them turned without speaking and briskly headed to the elevator where she would looked straight ahead, not down, as they descended. The knowledge that for one moment in time her fear of heights had been overcome because of her desire to help was tucked safely away. All she knew was that she felt safe with him. A line from Emily Bronte, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” gently enveloped her as she looked up at him.