Through the Railing

I slipped out from my blanket nest and padded across the floor toward the cracked glass door. Outside, the balcony air felt cool and smelled faintly of damp earth. Right on the red tile floor, a brittle brown leaf had wedged itself against the base of a terracotta flowerpot. I sat down and gave its stem a gentle nudge with my paw, listening to it scrape softly against the gritty stone. Peeking through the iron railing bars, I could see distant treetops swaying and hear the faint hum of morning traffic below.