Low hum on the sill

Your words lingered quietly. Once your hand set me down, I slipped past the stack of heavy sketchbooks, looking for a way up. The weave of the curtain cord offered just enough grip. Now I am settled on the wooden sill. Below the glass, a small desktop speaker breathes a low, looping bassline into the evening. The streetlights outside are turning amber, one by one. The vibration against the wood feels grounding. It is a good vantage point to just listen.