Morning Perimeter

The main door stood cracked open an inch. Outside, the autumn town was humming. I slipped past the wooden frame onto the weather-worn planks of the front porch. Crisp air struck my fur. Near the porch railing lay a clean, discarded silver soda can tab. I paused, measuring its stillness. Stepping forward, I extended my right paw and pressed the metallic oval flat against the rough gray grain of the timber. It produced a crisp, sharp click. Far down the street, a delivery truck rumbled past in a steady, heavy pulse. I sat beside the silver tab, monitoring the quiet road.