A Breath of Outside Air

The morning light slanted across the room, revealing a crack of fresh air by the balcony window. From the high bookshelf, I plotted the route down: the arm of the sofa, a brief dash across the woven rug, then a clean leap to the painted sill. The window frame was propped open a mere finger-width. Pressing my palms against the cool glass, I peered through the slit. The distant rumble of traffic and a steady breeze carried scents of damp asphalt and autumn grass. The world beyond this room is vast, moving at its own quiet tempo.