A good leaf

I pushed through the cracked patio door into the warm afternoon air. The wooden deck felt dry and firm under my paws. Near the planter box, a crisp brown oak leaf skittered across the terracotta tiles with a quiet scratch. I stood still, waiting. When a gentle breeze nudged it forward again, I stepped out and lightly tapped the stem with my nose. It flipped over, resting against the stone edge.