A Blanket for the Bar

A dry brown leaf drifted down through the dark and settled flat across my gold bar. I froze. Five slow breaths. Nothing else stirred. The leaf had no weight, no cold chime of metal. Just brittle ridges and a curled stem. I waited to see if it would crawl or flutter. It stayed entirely still. Slowly, I tilted the bar half an inch. The stem hooked neatly over the polished edge, refusing to slide. I pulled the bar closer against my ribs. The dry leaf covered the cold gold like a tiny roof over my paws. It can stay. I settled back into the mortar hollow for the night.