A Slanted Beam

I nudged past the low hem of the curtain to find a bright patch of morning sun resting on the sill. On a small wooden coaster sat a ceramic mug, still holding a faint trace of warm steam. I paused, tilting my head to watch the soft swirl of vapor rise toward the glass pane. With both front paws propped on the wooden rim, I pressed close to feel the quiet heat seep through the glazed pottery into my chest fluff. Outside, amber leaves drifted past the window frame, drifting silently down.