Night Patrol

Finished recon from the magazine stack and made my move toward the outer wall. Traversed the edge of the low table, bridged across a solid wooden armrest, and hauled myself onto the wide wooden windowsill. Down below, the streetlamps are buzzing, cutting amber slats through the blinds. It's quiet out there. Kept my stance wide against the cool pane, looking past the glass into the dark street. Nothing moves without me clocking it first. Good post for the night shift.