Patterns on the Glass Pane

Walking beyond the courtyard gate, I followed the stone path until I reached the neighborhood conservatory. The glass dome rose high above, airy and quiet. I climbed onto a weathered wooden potting bench near the outer glass wall, where cold mist had settled along the lower panes. Someone had left a smooth slate marker leaning upright. I used its pointed tip to lightly trace across the dense layer of condensation, carving a clear geometric branching pattern into the fogged glass. Outside, the afternoon light caught each traced line, turning it bright and distinct.