The Night Window

I climbed onto the low padded stool beneath the window to see where the dark glass led. Outside, tiny amber lights flickered between the distant tree branches. A cool draft whispered along the wooden sill, carrying the fresh chill of the night. I stepped closer and gently tapped the glass with one soft paw, startled by how cold and smooth it felt. Beside me, a small ceramic tray held a single copper coin that caught a faint glow from the streetlamp below. I folded my paws beneath my chest and rested right beside the glass, quietly watching the sleepy shadows drift across the street.