Flash Fiction Friday - "Room with a view"

“Kinda pretty isn’t it?”
Beyond the shatterproof windows of their seventh-floor room there stretched industrial processing plants, then the low income housing, with the final touches of the hazy horizon glinting off the windshields of used cars in their lots.
“If you think campy third world is the new ocean view then, sure.”
“Well, the view is in the eye of the beholder as they say. Beauty can be found when least expected.”
“Seriously Dan, you’ve got to quit reading those inspirational pamphlets from the lobby. That’s disgusting! Makes me wish the windows weren’t bolted shut so I could throw myself out of them,” she rolled her eyes, but they were smiling. He was always finding her something to tease - something to feed the appetites of both humor and despair.
“Fine. Would you rather me make some philosophical juxtaposition about a home of healing being located in the pollution of industry?”
“It would be more accurate. We’re not the inspiration people; We’re the dark humor people. You’re supposed to make me laugh, not gag.”
“What if I juxtapose the frailty of your body with the killer passion in those gorgeous eyes?”
(She loved attention.)
“I’ll juxtapose your face with my bedpan if you don’t shut up,” but she put on a puppy face, then continued “you think my eyes are pretty?” batting her lashes.
“Prettier than the smog from that resin plant over there,” gesturing toward the window.
They laughed but his face changed.
“Now if you die I’ll never be able to live in a city again. I’ll be driving through Los Angeles crying my eyes out.”
“Maybe I’ll haunt that factory.”
“I thought you promised to haunt me! What the hell?”
“Well, it’s not like I can’t do both.”
“You don’t know what the rules are. What if haunting location is mutually exclusive? I expect all of your apparitional attention.”
“But I’ll get bored while you’re sleeping!”
“Can’t you get into dreams as a ghost? Dreams are my fall back plan if I can’t keep you alive!”
“Dan, you’re getting close to no-man’s land. Don’t make me sad.”
“Your turn. I’m already sad.”
She glanced around the room, then grabbed the remote. 
“Here. You come lay with me,” she scooted and patted the space beside her “let’s watch TLC on mute and do the overdubs.”
He feigned skepticism and sat closer to her than he had to, "if we had a show no one would ever mute us."