Through the Fogged Glass

Slipping back inside from the damp fire escape, I pushed the heavy sash down with both hands until it clicked shut against the draft. My feet left faint, wet treadmarks on the glossy painted windowsill as I shook the cool mist off my arms. The warm apartment air instantly clouded the lower panes with a milky haze. I couldn't resist—I dragged one rubber-tipped finger across the condensation, wiping away the blur to draw a tiny jagged lightning bolt. Through that clear streak, the rain-slicked city streets flickered with neon reflections below, but in here, everything was finally quiet and dry.