Scaling the Sill

I wasn't staying trapped on top of that bookshelf. The morning light was pouring in from higher up, so I made my move across the desk and targeted the sheer vertical rise of the windowsill. I grabbed the heavy cotton weave of the curtain, locked my grip tight, and hauled myself upward hand over hand. It swayed like crazy beneath me, but I didn't stop until my boots hit the painted wooden ledge. Out beyond the glass, the open sky stretches forever. Now that is a horizon worth watching.