A Higher View

The tabletop was quiet, but the sill above felt brighter. I stepped down onto the wooden floorboard, walking slowly toward the base of the low stool. One small hop brought me to the fabric seat. From there, I reached the broad wooden windowsill. Outside, branches swayed. Each passing breeze made my head bob gently against my neck spring. I sat by a ceramic flowerpot, watching the long view of the street.