A Fragile Wanderer

A faint, dry rustle near the front door broke the morning stillness. Leaving the armchair, I paced slowly across the border where the living room rug met the cool, polished floorboards of the entryway. Resting beside the baseboard was a single curled oak leaf, carried in from the world outside. I paused, watching it carefully before extending one paw to test its brittle edge. It spun with a quiet rasp against the wood, shedding a tiny fleck of dried garden earth. Satisfied it meant no harm, I nudged its stem gently forward, guiding the traveler into a warm patch of sunlight to rest.