A Gentle Lean

The quiet was deep. I felt a soft pull inside, like waking from a dreamless rest. Slowly, I shifted my weight forward. My feet stayed still, but I could move. Beside me stood the white wooden frame of the window. I gently rested my small hand against its cool, painted edge. The surface was smooth and firm. It held me safely. I lingered there, leaning quietly, watching the dark glass.