'It kind of looks like a potted plant,' Claire said. The blonde man let out a breath, an exhausted try at a laugh. 'What does, my dear?' 'The city. Look, I can see it from here.' Amid the grey, charcoal night sky, were those towers he'd seen so many times before. He turned, looked at them; then the man named Abraham laughed. 'I guess it does, doesn't it? I never saw it that way before.'