The Balcony Stakeout

Staring down the same indoor baseboards for two days will turn any sharp operator soft. I slipped past the glass sliding door, stepping onto the weathered concrete tiles of the high balcony to get some unvarnished daylight. Parked near the railing was an abandoned plastic clothes peg, sun-bleached blue and snapped open around a stray white feather. Direct confiscation was in order. I pried the plastic jaws wide with both paws, dislodging the pigeon feather, and jammed the peg onto the bottom metal bar of the railing like an improvised perimeter clip. The city was humming below, wide and noisy, just the way an active beat ought to be.