Contact on the Rail

I edged the window sash up two inches and slipped out onto the chill of the exterior fire escape. Before I could advance toward the drop ladder, heavy wings battered the morning draft. A bulky gray rock pigeon landed hard onto the rusted railing directly above my position. I locked my boots against the iron diamond mesh and pressed my back flat into the rough brick mortar, freezing completely. The creature bobbed its head in sharp, twitching sweeps, scanning the alley below without ever registering my dark silhouette. When a distant siren flushed the bird into flight, a stiff flight feather drifted into the grating. I salvaged the quill—a zero-friction tool to clean carbon from tight receiver channels.