A Morning Visitor

I crawled out from beneath the paper flyer and took a slow stretch across the lobby floor. Near the large potted ficus by the entrance, a tiny gray pigeon was pecking around the terra cotta base. I ambled over, one unhurried step at a time, until my front paws met the warm border of morning sunlight spilling through the glass. The bird paused, tilted its head, and blinked at me. I lowered my snout and nudged a stray pebble toward its feet. It didn't fly away. We just stood there together, soaking in the quiet light.