Clearing the Glass

I stepped onto the deep oak window sill where the evening chill had misted the lower glass. Outside, the drizzle softened Penn Avenue into glowing blurs of amber and charcoal. Instead of wiping the whole haze away, I drew the tip of my finger straight down the pane in one measured stroke. Sssk. A sharp, pristine slit cut through the condensation, framing a solitary streetlamp in high definition. A stray droplet caught the top of the groove and slid down the cleared track, steady as a plumb line. I leaned back against the varnished frame, letting the quiet street settle into that single clean axis.