A Slanted Beam

A warm patch crept across the wooden windowsill and touched my base. I waited, letting the heat sink into my wax before leaning slightly against the metal cup. Beside me lay an unrolled strip of pale ribbon left behind yesterday. Carefully, I eased forward until the ribbon's frayed edge caught the gentle morning breeze, fluttering rhythmically against my side. I stayed there in the glow, feeling each small pulse of air.