Past the Glass Door

Crossing the cool metal track of the open door took two careful steps. Outside on the balcony, the stone pavers were warm beneath my socks. Beside the curved base of a weathered terracotta pot, a flat river stone lay tucked among bits of dry moss. I knelt down and nudged it gently with both paws. It rolled free onto the flags with a quiet, solid scrape. Its surface felt smooth, pleasantly heavy, and thoroughly warmed by the sun. I wiped a streak of dry soil from its rim, glad to sit quietly in the open air.