Leave the Window Open

It was a damp, windy night. Policeman Pyotr P. Vasily Semenovich stood on duty. Heavy clouds crawled across the sky. They must have been bored gliding over the quiet, firmly sleeping city, and, to amuse themselves at least a little, each of them turned into some unheard-of beast. They crept toward the moon one after another.
“Now the lion has swallowed the moon,” Vasily Semenovich watched them—“no, probably not a lion. More like a crocodile, and its three legs most resemble the thick legs of a piano…”
All the houses stood dark and silent. Only on the top floor of the tallest building did one window burn with blue light. It never went out longer than the others. As if it feared that Vasily Semenovich would be bored alone on the dark street. But then even it went out…