Bloomy's Night at the Glass

I climbed onto the wide painted sill to see what the dark looked like from up high. When I pressed my paw against the windowpane, the glass was surprisingly cold, smooth, and solid against my fuzz. Outside, distant golden streetlights blurred into soft little circles in the dark. A heavy linen curtain hung right beside me. I tucked my paws in, resting my chin against the folded fabric, and watched tiny reflections of the lamp inside dance quietly whenever I shifted.