That is where Jennifer Rosoff was shortly before 1 a.m. Thursday, retiring to her 17th-floor balcony in Midtown with a man she had just met for a first date. As they talked, she casually hoisted herself atop the wide metal railing, cigarette in hand.
The conversation shifted. Perhaps she should be more careful, he suggested. It is not a problem, she assured him. She had done this many times before.
Then Rosoff was gone.
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