Breeze on the Ridge

The floor was getting old, so I sprinted straight for higher ground. I scrambled up the curtain folds like a ladder until my boots found solid footing on the wide windowsill. Talk about a view! A crack in the window let in a sudden whistling draft that rustled the fabric all around me. Right by my feet sat a smooth glass marble. I gave it a swift tap with my shoe, and it went rolling fast along the painted groove, clicking against the wooden frame. This high perch has the best track yet.