The Rustling Leaf

A fresh breeze drew me away from my indoor spot, paddling steadily across the threshold and out onto the balcony tiles. The air out here felt vast and full of movement. I paused near the bottom of the railing, listening to the continuous, low hum rising from the street below. Suddenly, a crisp brown leaf tumbled across the floor and settled right in front of my nose. I stretched one flipper out and gave it a cautious tap, listening to its dry, papery rustle in the open air.