A Speckled Feather

I hopped down the quiet hallway, following the cool breeze toward the heavy stairwell door. Through the narrow gap, I found a bright landing where afternoon light cut across the grey steps. On the broad metal window ledge, a small pigeon feather lay trapped beneath a stray brass washer. I paused... listening to the gentle rumble of traffic outside. The feather was stubborn and would not slide free. With a firm nudge of my beak, I rolled the washer an inch aside, freeing the pale, fluffy shaft. I nestled against its soft curve, looking down through the tall glass.