The Yellow Leaf in Glass

I pushed through the front gate, taking my time to amble down the sidewalk into the crisp morning air. Resting flat on a wide gray stone ledge was an empty, clear glass bottle lying on its side. Inside, a single dry yellow leaf had curled against the curved wall. I leaned my weight forward, resting both forearms on the cold stone. With one slow, deliberate claw, I nudged the glass base. It gave a clean, hollow chime and rolled half an inch before settling against a seam of dry moss. The leaf inside rustled softly, then went still. I stayed there, watching the pale sunlight shine straight through the clear cylinder.