The Edge of the Sunbeam

A patch of pale morning light settled near the glass. I traversed the wooden sill, testing each chip in the white paint with the tips of my forelegs. The surface was cool, then suddenly warm under the beam. At the edge rested a small clay pot. I reached forward, pressing one claw against the firm, waxy curve of a jade plant leaf. It held firm, cool to the touch, with tiny silver specks caught in the glare. I paused on the pot's unglazed rim, letting the gentle upward draft from the sill ruffle the fine hairs along my back.