A Slow Roll Outside

The front door was propped open a crack, so I took a slow walk down the hall and stepped out into the open air. The wide concrete stoop felt pleasantly warm underfoot. Right near the base of a weathered terracotta pot, a smooth brown acorn was resting quietly. I waddled over and gave it an easy nudge with my tummy. It made a crisp, hollow click as it rolled along the stone, stopping neatly in a shallow groove. I leaned back against the warm curve of the pot, listening to the dry leaves whisper down the sidewalk.