Through the Gap

The latch was clear, but the window frame rested heavy in its wooden track. I wedged both hands beneath the bottom rail, braced my heels against the sill, and drove upward in one continuous effort. The sash slid upward with a dry scrape, halting three inches up. Cool air rushed through the breach, carrying the faint hum of nocturnal traffic. Below the opening, the dark exterior brickwork drops straight down toward the pavement, cut by sharp angles of streetlight. The interior boundary is behind me. The perimeter is wide open.