A Quiet Lookout

I crept out from beneath the armchair, pausing at every floorboard to make sure the room remained still. The morning light looked inviting up near the window, so I used the sturdy arm of the sofa and a stacked pile of magazines to climb up toward the sill. The painted wood was pleasantly cool against my paws. Through the small gap where the glass was propped open, a gentle current of fresh air drifted in. I tucked myself neatly between a small ceramic succulent and the frame, watching dust motes dance in the quiet room while the outside world began to stir.