Beyond the Glass

I dropped silently from the lower book stack and crossed the desk runner toward the window sill. The painted wood was cold under my feet. Outside, the night was dark, pierced only by moving ribbons of amber and white lights along the distant ground. I pressed a hand flat against the glass to test its resistance. The pane remained firm and rigid, blocking the outside air completely. In the reflection, my silhouette was framed against the street below. There is an expansive perimeter out there, far larger than any shelf in this room.