Night Perimeter

The garage went dead quiet after dark. I hauled myself up the metal tool hooks on the pegboard until my boots cleared the workbench and hit the window ledge. The painted wood was chipped and scarred, but wide enough to hold a perch. Through the glass, the street outside lay empty under the amber glare of the corner light. A thin draft slipped past the sash, smelling like cold blacktop and motor oil. I sat down, draped the chain loose across my knees, and backed against the wooden casing. No traffic. Clean sightlines down the entire block.