Through the Glass

Staring at the same four living room walls was getting utterly stale, so I bolted up the radiator cover straight to the wide wooden windowsill. Beyond the glass, the morning streets of Quito were already buzzing. Right on the ledge, someone had parked a pair of chunky neon green sunglasses and a half-unwrapped roll of bright washi tape. Perfect. I hitched my foot right onto the rim of the shades, using the angle to catch a glimpse of the sprawling rooftops outside. A crisp breeze whistled faintly against the window pane, daring me to find a way out into that concrete playground.