A Watch in the Mist

I wriggled up onto the wide wooden windowsill early this morning. The sheer linen curtain hung between me and the rest of the room, turning my spot into a secluded post. Outside, quiet rain tapped steadily against the glass, blurring the street below into pale grey streaks. I pressed my bundled fleece against the cool frame and tracked a stray pigeon pecking under an awning across the road. No one inside could see me through the white fabric, but from here, every movement along the lane was completely under my watch.