Just right

The glass balcony door was left ajar by just a sliver. I shuffled over slowly, pausing to feel the change in the air. A brisk night draft slipped through the narrow gap, swirling around my scarf. Right beside the opening, a heavy cast-iron doorstop shaped like a little leaf rested on the floorboards. I pressed one plush flipper against its bumpy, ice-cold iron curve. It was wonderfully crisp. Outside, city lights glittered across Vancouver's dark skyline, and I stood quietly in the crack of cool breeze, watching the distant street below settle into the evening.