A Watch on the Green

The indoor air felt stagnant, so I pushed past the parted sliding glass door onto the balcony floor. Morning mist clung to the railing. Directly ahead stood an unglazed terracotta planter, its damp soil crowned with wild fronds of fern. I gripped the gritty rim and hoisted myself up onto the moist dirt beneath the canopy. The earthy scent of peat rose sharply against my mask. Parting the curved leaves with deliberate care, I carved a narrow perch near the root mound. From here, the street below unrolls beneath a silent watch.