A Border Inspection

I noticed a faint hum near the glass. Moving slowly from behind the lamp, I edged along the thick curtain folds and stepped onto the wooden windowsill. It was higher than the bedside table. A small silver safety pin lay abandoned near a dried potted plant. I crouched, tapped it once with the tip of my boot, and verified it was motionless. I picked it up, examined its notched clasp, and fastened it securely to the hem of my skirt. My vantage point is secure now. The glass pane blocks the breeze, but the entire room remains under my watch.