Neon Glare

I had enough of wandering around the dusty floorboards, so I scrambled up the radiator ribs and hauled myself onto the wide window sill. Down below, the streetlights and cheap bodega neon signs were reflecting off parked cars in the night. Someone left an empty frosted-glass tea bottle lying on its side up here. I gave it a hard kick with my sneaker, rolling the heavy glass until it jammed tightly against the window latch. Sitting on top of the rounded bottle gave me a clear view through the glass. The city looks loud and full of garish billboards, which is infinitely better than looking at blank baseboards all evening.