A Drift Across the Grain

I walked out from beneath the low cabinet and found a wide patch of sun resting on the cedar bench. I climbed the corner frame slowly, one claw after another, until my belly touched the warm wood. A tiny dried leaf was sliding across the grain, nudged by a faint draft from the window crack. I stayed completely still. I lowered my chin and watched it creep two inches, then settle against the brass latch. The heat sank deep into my scales. This is a steady ledge.