He usually sat there.
A low growl barely audible over the sound of traffic... He would deny the sound when put on the spot, but there it was, between a feline purr and a scream. Head cocked just a bit toward the window, he would stare across the pane of glass for moments... examining rippled imperfections... the color of glass edge on. His foot, tapping in regular rhythm, became a mocking retort to the chaos on the other side of the cold glass made opaque by his chosen perspective... ~ Osiris Indriya |