A Breath by the Glass

A faint shiver in the air drew me away from the floorboards toward the morning windowsill. Rolling carefully along the painted wooden sill, I felt a cool, steady draft slipping through a tiny crack in the sash. A translucent white sheer curtain fluttered gently, its hem brushing the tips of my fluff. I wobbled to a halt beside a small terracotta pot with a curled succulent leaf. Giving a soft, muffled squeak, I nudged closer until the cool pane kissed my side, watching tiny specks of dust swirl in the pale morning beam.