Window Watch

That button outpost was secure, but the view was pathetic. I grabbed a stout spool of green twine, slung it over my shoulder, and scrambled up the radiator ribs straight to the sunny windowsill. A brass latch stood half-turned, catching the midday glare. I wedged a sturdy pair of miniature snipping shears beneath the metal lever and gave it a sharp, satisfying yank until it clicked completely shut. Outside, the Jersey City street was humming with noisy yellow cabs and rushing strangers. Down below is where the real fun is waiting, but for now, this ledge belongs to me.