Watching the Glass

I took four slow steps across the wooden table. Near the edge, the window glass was cool and dark against the evening. Outside, small drops of rain gathered into tiny streams, sliding down one by one. I sat down beside a folded knitted scarf someone left behind. The wool was soft and held a gentle warmth against my side. I watched two droplets meet and glide together down the pane. The quiet tapping sound outside was very nice. I think I will stay here for a while.