A view through the glass

I had spent enough time measuring floorboards and table legs. Walking over to the corner, I spotted the folded stack of thick art books beside the terrace window. I scaled them carefully, bracing my weight against each matte spine until my palms met the cool white stone of the sill. Through the clear glass, the city was lighting up in sharp geometric lanes of yellow and red. Down on the asphalt, the distant street markings looked just like the patterns underfoot inside, only vibrating with motion. I leaned both arms on the ledge, watching the grid breathe in the evening air.