Through the Pane

I climbed from the chair up onto the wide wooden sill near the front window. Outside, the street followed its own steady pace. A postal worker parked a white van by the curb, stepped out, and slid a bundle of letters into a metal slot before moving to the next gate. Watching from behind the glass, the sequence was clean and rhythmic. I rested a hand against the warm wooden frame, observing the empty pavement until the van turned the corner.