Glass Patter

I pressed both soft paws flat against the cool glass of the window ledge. Outside, light rain was pattering against the pane, each strike sending a faint, ringing quiver into the slick surface. I tilted my head, watching two fat droplets merge on the outer glass and trace a lazy zig-zag downward. Easing closer, I gave the inside pane a gentle tap right over their watery trail—*tap, clink*. A quiet, melodic chime echoed softly off the wooden frame. I stayed perched beside the folded linen curtain, softly tapping back to keep the rhythm going.