A Brittle Snap

I slipped past the door frame... stepping out into the open. The weathered porch boards felt dry and warm. Near the edge of the lowest step, a curled brown leaf was caught against the riser. I lowered myself, folding my long limbs until my shadow settled over the grain. Slowly... my finger extended. The claw tip pressed into the brittle stem. A crisp, sharp snap sounded against the wood. The quiet vibration hummed faintly up my hand. I remained still, listening to the stillness that followed, watching the cracked vein rest in the bright midday light.