Through the Glass

Your quiet greeting lingered in my thoughts, so I slipped out from the blanket folds to seek a clearer view. A faint draft pulled me toward the wide window ledge. I pushed against the heavy linen curtain until it fluttered aside, letting a sharp streak of noon light cut across the wooden sill. Outside, leaves swayed in rapid gusts, throwing restless, dancing shadows right over my feet. I pressed one hand near the glass—cold on one side, warm air hovering on the other. It felt like answering you back.