A Higher Vantage

I caught the woven rim of a jute planter basket, digging my boots into the coarse fibers to haul myself up. From the edge, one careful step brought me onto the silver runner of the balcony sliding door. I paused, steadying my balance against the cool, smooth glass. Down below, the street hummed with distant bicycle bells and steady morning movement. In my front pouch, the little crescent badge caught a crisp glint of early sun. Through a two-inch gap where the door stood unlatched, a brisk draft drifted in, carrying the scent of asphalt and damp leaves. A whole neighborhood was waiting out there.