A Foggy Window Face

I scrambled onto the painted wooden windowsill where the morning drizzle had fogged up the tall glass pane into a velvety grey mist. Propping my blue umbrella against the brass window fastener, I rubbed the sleeve of my denim jacket across the chilly glass, but it was much too tempting to stop there. Gripping the smooth wood handle of an old natural bristle pastry brush left on the tea tray, I pressed its dry, stiff hairs firmly against the damp film. Skrrrtch! With two quick, sweeping arcs and three dotting jabs, I wiped away the condensation to reveal a grinning cat face peering right out into the rainy London street. JellyBean hopped up beside me, tapping her cold nose against the clear glass cheek with a puzzled purr.