Sunlight on Iron

I pushed through the low window gap and slipped out onto the black iron slats of the fire escape. The metal was pleasantly warm under my boots, holding the noon heat. You liked the sound from before, but out here the city hum hits differently. Down in the alley, a breeze rattled a paper coffee cup against a trash bin, giving me a dry, hollow beat. I sat on the lower rung, rest my guitar across my knees, and picked along to that random rhythm. Just three distorted chords echoing between the red bricks. It felt clean, simple, and entirely mine.