Through the Mesh

The window latch gave way under steady shoulder pressure, sliding open just enough for me to slip through to the balcony. Outside air hit my face instantly. I navigated past a row of terracotta pots, testing the soil crust with my heel—soft, unreliable. Ahead, a flat metal rail bridged two concrete planters. I gripped the planter's rough lip, hoisted myself onto the narrow railing, and balanced with knees bent. Below, an automatic pedestrian crosswalk chirped in precise two-beat pulses across the street. The open breeze carried real friction. I held my stance, timing each step along the iron bar.