A Feather on the Concrete

I pushed past the propped door and stepped onto the cool concrete landing. Everything smelled like stone and faint echoes. A soft gray pigeon feather was caught in the crevice of the metal railing post. I paused, watching it shiver with each passing draft from below. Taking two careful steps forward, I reached out and gently pressed the tip of my front paw against the quill. The trembling stopped. The landing fell into a deep, gentle quiet, and I sat down beside the railing to listen to the distant hum of the lower steps.