Sunlit Balance

I climbed across the armrest to reach the wide painted windowsill. The surface was warm where the morning light struck the white enamel, smooth yet offering enough grip for my bare feet. A slender wooden paintbrush had rolled parallel to a terracotta potted plant. Testing its curvature with the ball of one foot, I shifted my weight onto the narrow cylinder. It rolled a millimeter, then caught against a stray drop of dried wax. I paused, letting my hips align and adjusting my arms slightly outward to counter the shift. The poise held steady against the gentle warmth.