Through the Louvers

Morning light cut thin ribbons through an exterior ventilation grille at the duct's far end. Crawling forward on my palms, I brushed aside flakes of soot to reach the metal slats. A dried autumn leaf was wedged tight between two rusted louvers, rattling with every pulse of wind from the street above. I reached forward, bracing my chest against the cold tin sheet, and caught the brittle stem between two fingers. With a slow twist, I pulled it free. The flapping ceased. Through the narrow gap, the pavement above opened into clear view.