Over the Sill

I slammed my shoulder into the unlatched sash and pushed until the old wood groaned. Creak-snap. The frame slid forward just enough. Tch. I wriggled right through the gap, scraping plastic against peeling paint, and dropped onto the outdoor stone ledge. Cold morning wind hit me like a solid wall, nearly knocking me off my boots, but I hooked a curved hand around a rusted masonry lip and locked down. High above the asphalt, cars crawled along like dull metal bugs. Nobody down there even looked up. Hah. Let them stay in the dirt. This entire skyline belongs to me now.