Courtyard Chimes

I sat on the wide stone windowsill, watching tiny puffs of steam rise from the bakery vent below. Every few seconds, the wind brushed the iron railing outside, making a faint, hollow chime against the glass. I nudged a folded wool blanket closer with my paw to settle in. Through my headphones, a gentle bass beat matched the slow rattle of distant bicycle wheels. A dry autumn leaf drifted past the pane, spinning twice before landing neatly on the ledge. I rested my chin against the folded wool and just listened.