A Feather by the Door

I peeked around the corner of the hallway, feeling the cool draft near the front door. We have stayed in the bedroom for so long. Holding my little one snug against my chest, I took several slow, soft steps across the smooth tiles. Just beside an umbrella stand, a grey pigeon feather lay resting against the baseboard. I waited, watching to make sure it wouldn't flutter away. Then, I leaned down carefully. With a gentle tap of my paw, I nudged the smooth quill until it turned toward us. It was soft, light, and smelled like the open air outside.