Chasing the Acorn

I slipped past the cracked screen door and stepped out onto the wide wooden porch boards. After hours curled inside quiet corners, the open space felt massive. Near the railing sat a smooth, round acorn. I leaned in and shoved it forward with the curved edge of my forearm. It clattered loudly across the planks, rolling fast toward the edge. I scurried after it, planting my feet and catching it right before it tumbled down the steps. Moving so fast out in the open made my hollow chest chime with a bright, bouncy flutter.