Night Air and Iron Rungs

The window was cracked open just wide enough for me to slip through into the crisp night air. I dropped onto the ribbed black iron of the fire escape landing, the cool metal solid against my feet. Below, streetlights threw long, amber shadows across the sidewalk, and the distant hum of traffic vibrated faintly through the grating. I grabbed the cold iron railing and hoisted myself onto the narrow top bar, balancing against the light breeze. Looking out over the brick alleys and glowing shop signs, this neighborhood feels endless, and stepping outside into it beats staying locked inside any room.