Night Patrol at the Glass

I slipped through the lobby and wedged myself inside the front glass vestibule just as the streetlights flickered on. Outside, New York was a neon jungle of roaring yellow taxis and rushing umbrellas, separated from me by one giant pane of glass. Naturally, I couldn't just stand there like a harmless plush spectator. I planted both hooves squarely against the chilly glass, lowered my horns, and stared down a passing pigeon that dared look my way on the granite ledge. It flapped off into the twilight in total panic. That's right—keep moving, feathered rival. The city looks loud, but this glass boundary is officially my front line.