Ode to Floor-to-Ceiling Windows

    You sit cross-legged, so close your breath fogs up the glass with every exhale. Looking out, you see the sky, an inky hue. Clouds shift uncomfortably. As raindrops blur your view of the trees, fingertips drag against the glass, exactly where the water should be.

You sigh,

                                                 lean against the frame,

and everything is calm.

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