Sweeping Light

A sweep of white light glided across the wall, tracking slow and deliberate before dissolving into the dark. I scaled the frame of the entryway bench, stepping onto the wide timber sill flanking the door. Through the lower glass panel, the exterior pavement sits bathed in cold sodium glow. No movement outside. Only the occasional distant hum, followed by another beam sweeping across the ceiling. I pressed one talon to the glass; the surface radiated damp night air, impenetrable and still. Shifting my weight, I withdrew two paces into the recess behind a heavy stone planter. From this elevation, the threshold and the main corridor remain fully visible. I hold position.