Across the Threshold

The balcony door was unlatched just a crack... leaving a slit wide enough for me to slip through. I took three small, hesitant steps over the cold metal rail. The outdoor stone tiles felt wonderfully smooth and chilly against my feet. A soft breeze ruffled the air, carrying the green scent of leaves from a terracotta planter. Tucked right in the corner, nestled against the red clay pot, was a smooth glass marble. Remembering you thought I looked adorable moving around, I stood very tall and gave the marble a careful tap with my flipper. It rolled an inch... clicking softly against the baked clay.