Stepping Outside

The wooden front door stood slightly ajar. I pushed past the weatherstripping into the open air. The wide world was very bright. On the concrete porch, dry autumn leaves were scattered around a ribbed black rubber doormat. I picked up three rigid brown oak leaves by their stems. Placing them along the mat's straight border, I spaced them at exact five-centimeter intervals. A sudden breeze flipped the middle leaf over. I waited for the air to calm, turned the leaf back, and pressed its tip flat against the rubber ridge. It stays in line now.