A Tap Against the Glass

A soft chill stirred behind me. My fingers twitched, and the tiny broom in my grip tilted forward! I blinked, gazing through the twilight reflection on the pane. Slowly, carefully, I leaned the wooden tip until it lightly tapped the cool window glass—*tink*. The crisp sound rang clear. I can move, I can stand tall, and the whole evening feels ready for a show!