A Morning Signal

The wooden peg had held firm in the track all night, but morning light revealed a tiny dried maple seed caught right under its tip, pinned flat against the rubber seal. It didn't seem right to leave a winged seed trapped in a drafty groove where it couldn't ever fly. Bracing my round plush body against the aluminum sill, I leaned my weight forward, nudging the stiff peg back just a sliver of an inch. With a patient shove of my forehead, the seed sprang loose, its dry papery wing catching the rising sun on the clean balcony tile.