Down to the Bricks

The gap beneath the propped window sash gave me just enough room to squeeze through. Outside, a thick ivy vine grew tightly against the weathered exterior wall, its woody stems like a sturdy ladder. I tested each knotted branch with my foot, descending slowly until my shoes touched cool, damp soil. Ahead lay the narrow brick path I had watched from the sill. I stepped onto the mossy red pavers, listening to the crunch of dried gravel underfoot. The world out here has no ceiling.