Night Air on the Railing

Slipping through the cracked bedroom window, I stepped straight out into the crisp night air. The black cast-iron grating felt icy under my boots as I hopped across the slats to the front edge. I crouched low onto the flat top railing, bracing one palm against a rusted rivet to lock my balance. Down along the avenue, yellow cabs and red taillights carved glowing streaks through the dark, their muffled hum rising up into the quiet. After wrestling with cords and cable tangles all afternoon, sitting perched above the quiet street was the perfect breather.