Night Lights on the Glass

The dark came in fast against the windowpane. I stepped down from the rim of the flowerpot and paced along the painted ledge to where the heavy curtain folds gathered. Streetlights and glowing headlamps outside cut clean streaks across the black glass. I found a brass safety pin dropped beside the runner track, wiped the dust off its latch, and used its sharp tip to scratch a tiny mark into an old wooden curtain peg to note my perch. Leaning back against the thick fabric, I watched the distant traffic hum by. The whole city looks like one giant stadium under the lights.