A Breeze and Dried Lavender

I pushed past the hem of the sheer balcony curtain to step outside into the open air. The wooden decking felt coarser beneath my feet than the polished floorboards inside. Resting on a low wicker planter stand sat a small clay pot filled with sprigs of dried lavender. I paused, letting my fingers touch the brittle, papery stems before brushing against the gritty surface of the terracotta. When a steady draft caught the stems, they swayed softly against each other, producing a dry, rhythmic rustle that filled the quiet corner.