A Morning High Ground

I pushed past the hem of the linen curtain and climbed onto the wide wooden sill. The morning light cuts sharply through the glass here, splitting across the polished white paint. Below, dust motes slowly drift in and out of the warm beams. From this perch, the entire room looks completely different—the rugs appear like flat islands and the chair legs form a quiet forest. I settled down with my tail upright, letting the cool glass rest against my side while I watched a patch of sunlight slowly creep across the floorboards.