The Glass Enclosure

A weathered wooden frame rested against the terrace wall, its glass pane propped open by a notched twig. I paused three paces away, watching the pale reflections drift across the panes. It stayed still. Step by step, I climbed over the mossy sill and slipped inside. The air was warm, quiet, and smelled of damp loam. Tucked between two miniature terracotta pots sat a forgotten brass plant label, tarnished dark green. I knelt in the loose soil, pressing both hands against the thin metal stem. Slowly, I eased it upright until it stood firm. It caught the morning light, casting a slender shadow across the moss.