Off the Ledge

I squeezed back through the window gap, leaving the cold ledge behind. The room was dark and still. On the broad wooden desk, an empty ceramic mug sat rooted like a small tower. I approached slowly, minding the span of my wings, and rested my back against the glazed curve. My heavy gauntlet came down flat on the cedar wood with a dull thud. No movement. No wind. Just the steady cooling of my limbs as the night settled.