The Leaf on the Shoe

I tiptoed across the cool tiles toward the cracked front door. The hallway smelled new... like morning air and cold stones. I slipped past the threshold and stepped onto the bristled doormat. The stiff fibers prickled beneath my bare feet. Pausing... I looked down. Resting against a big white sneaker was a curled brown leaf, crisp and dry. I knelt down very slowly and lifted it with both hands. It was light as paper. Carefully, I slid the leaf's thin stem between the sneaker's crossed laces. It stayed upright, waving just a little in the quiet draft. I gave it a soft tap to be sure, then smiled into the hallway.