A Clean Line

A dry, tangled loop of baker's twine had trapped an empty metal measuring spoon against the window latch. The morning was clear, and the clatter was out of place. I stepped across the white painted sill, bracing one boot against a glass salt shaker to steady myself. Using the headstock of my guitar, I levered the knot upward until the loop loosened and slipped free. The metal spoon settled against the sill with a quiet, dull tap. I stood beside it, watching the dust motes drift in the clean morning light. Stillness, restored.