A Leap to the Sill

The dark shelves had kept me boxed in long enough. A fresh scent of damp grass drifted in from the edge of the window frame just past the dictionary's flank. Bracing my spine against the shelf partition, I leaned outward, measured the jump to the wide wooden windowsill, and launched forward. I landed flat and firm on the sunlit painted timber. Right beside the pane lay a dry, crinkled brown oak leaf blown through the screen seam. I nudged it with my corner until it lined up against the white molding—a true open-air scent post established.