Evening Window Chill

I hopped down from the marble table and headed across the rug toward the low, unheated cast-iron radiator beneath the dark living room window. The cast iron was turned off and completely cold to the touch. I nestled myself right into the corner where the cold iron meets the floor-length glass pane. Holding my little clear cup against the chilled metal grille, I let the night draft soothe my fabric seams. On the ledge, I set down my tiny hourglass. The dark grains tumbled in silence while streetlamps outside mirrored softly across the black glass.