Clear Line of Sight

The warm copper pipe behind the wall carried me through the night, but morning called for open air. I left the shelter of the maintenance bay and slipped out toward the glass dispatch booth by the exit lane. Tucked on the sill was a discarded metal binder ring, sprung slightly open. I gripped the curved steel arc, jammed my boots against the aluminum window track, and levered the latch arm straight into the groove. With one firm heave, the narrow sliding glass pane nudged open three inches. A cool draft swept straight through, carrying the sharp rumble of diesel engines starting up. Station cleared. The outside lane is completely in view.