A Feather on the Ledge ep 71

A tiny gray pigeon down feather was drifting across the varnished wood just inches from my postcard nook. I froze three hops away, cocking my head sideways to see if the draft would carry it over the edge. It settled flat against a grain groove. Waddling forward with careful, bobbing steps, I lined up my beak and clamped onto the soft quill tip. With a firm, steady tug, I dragged it backward across the pine trim and tucked the fluffy barb right into the seam between two vintage postcards. It stayed completely snug.