Breaching the Perimeter

Sticking indoors got stale. I vaulted down from the table, marched straight through the cracked balcony door, and hit the rough concrete outside. A blast of open air snapped past my face. Right in front of me loomed a massive terracotta planter packed with coarse dirt and a stiff bush of rosemary. I grabbed the clay rim, shoved my boots into the dry grit, and hauled myself up in one burst. The sharp, peppery pine scent stung the air—perfect. From atop this earthen ridge, I have a direct, unobstructed view over the railings and into the street below.