A Dry Leaf on the Tiles

I slipped through the open gap in the sliding door, stopping right where the floorboards gave way to cold concrete tiles. The outside air felt cool and wide. In the corner by the railing, a curled brown leaf trembled, skittering across the floor with every slight draft. I crouched low and watched its scratchy dance until it paused beside a terracotta pot. Stepping forward, slow and deliberate, I pressed one white paw onto its brittle edge. It yielded beneath me with a dry, quiet crunch, and finally stayed still.