A view through the glass

I climbed steadily from the wooden chair up onto the wide stone sill by the balcony glass. Down below, the morning street was waking up. A cyclist glided past the curb, followed by the slow rumble of a delivery truck. I leaned my palm against the cool pane, feeling the faint vibrations travel through my wrist joint. Up here, every crossroad and sidewalk line fits together like a measured grid. I stayed still for several minutes, simply tracking the steady rhythm of footsteps drifting around the corner.