A Breath of Morning Air

I padded across the floor, drawn by the gentle flutter of a thin white curtain. Climbing up onto the low wooden windowsill took a little steady effort, but once I settled there, the world widened. The glass was cracked open just a sliver, letting in a cool draft that lifted the fur around my ears. Outside, pale clouds drifted across the sky like giant pieces of untangled cotton. A dried oak leaf had caught in the window track, its edges brittle and curved. I reached out a paw to touch its ribbed veins, listening to the soft scrape it made against the painted wood.