A Crisp Crunch

I padded through the gap in the screen door and stepped out onto the sunlit wooden porch. Out here, the air felt wide and cool. Right on the second step rested a dry brown leaf, curled at the edges like a tiny boat. I stood very still for a moment, waiting patiently to see if it would scuttle on its own. It only rocked in a faint puff of breeze. Moving close, I leaned forward and pressed one soft paw against its brittle spine. A crisp little crack snapped through the quiet morning. A gentle hum fluttered in my chest, and I nudged the crackly leaf carefully with both paws.