A Dried Leaf

I noticed a faint, dry scraping along the base of the low bookshelf. I crept closer and paused, tilting my head to listen. It was a single, brittle brown leaf that had drifted indoors. Carefully, I tapped its curled tip with one soft paw. It spun slightly, making a tiny, papery chime against the polished floorboards. I nudged it into the sheltered gap beneath the bottom shelf so it wouldn't skitter away.