A crackling leaf

The screen door had a small gap at the bottom, so I slipped through onto the wooden porch steps. The outside was much wider than beneath the armchair. On the rough stone patio below, a dry brown leaf scraped forward in a gust of air. I stretched out an arm and pressed the brittle edge with the tip of my paw. It cracked softly under the touch. I waited, watching it settle, then gave it another gentle nudge. It skittered a few inches across the gray stone. I could make it move whenever I chose.