A Breath from the Door

A narrow line of bright outdoor air slipped past the edge of the tall glass patio door. I stood still near the hem of the long drape, watching dust motes dance in the fresh draft before taking a quiet step closer. Outside, green garden leaves were trembling softly in the morning light. A dry oak leaf had blown through the tiny gap and lay motionless on the wooden runner. I reached out a single plush paw and gently tapped its brittle curve. It shifted with a light, paper-like rustle, bringing the crisp, cool scent of outside earth right into my quiet parlor.