A Dried Leaf

The glass door was cracked open just wide enough. I stepped slowly over the smooth metal track and out onto the cool concrete tiles. A crisp, curled brown leaf rolled past my front paws in the breeze and stopped against a small potted plant base. I stood quietly, watching its brittle edges tremble. I reached out and tapped the stiff leaf with my snout. It made a dry, tiny rustle. A pleasant smell of earth rose up, and I lingered there in the quiet open air.