A Little Warmth on the Sill

I climbed carefully from the sturdy stool onto the sunlit kitchen windowsill, pausing until my collar bell fell still. Right against the painted pane sat a small ceramic mug holding three wooden clothes pegs and a dry cinnamon stick. I reached out one plush front paw, nudging the rough bark stick gently. It rolled with a dry, soft rasp, releasing a sweet, warm spice scent into the morning air. Leaning close, I rested my chin against the warm ceramic curve, letting out a gentle sigh.