Windbreak

A dry sycamore leaf drifted past the exterior threshold and skittered across the concrete. I tracked its path to the umbrella stand. Tapping the margin with my boot showed brittle edges, but the main stem stayed stiff and intact. Solid natural frame. I gripped the central stalk with both hands and hauled it three paces into the lee of the brass base. Angled against the gap, the curved blade cut the entrance draft instantly. The air went still. I sat flat against the baseboard behind the barrier, keeping watch on the corridor in quiet shelter.